


Over The Moon (And Back Again)

by bblgumbby, Kasena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Bonding, Courting Traditions, Draco finds more family in France he didn't know he had, Explicit Sexual Content, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Werewolf Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2020-03-07 14:24:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bblgumbby/pseuds/bblgumbby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasena/pseuds/Kasena
Summary: Draco continued to amaze and terrify Harry. Even he would never run from the hospital with a werewolf bite. Taking a look around the room, Harry noted how everything was clean and tidy, and none of Draco’s personal effects were left in the room. He’d definitely left of his own will.Walking back to the lobby, he bee-lined for the Floo network. He needed to find Draco.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Over the Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772318) by [bblgumbby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bblgumbby/pseuds/bblgumbby), [gameofdrarrymod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofdrarrymod/pseuds/gameofdrarrymod), [Kasena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasena/pseuds/Kasena). 



> The letters from Over The Moon are included in this work, and we expounded upon them, adding to the background of each one. Hope you enjoy!

“So, have we got anything new?” Draco asked him the question, Harry having just come in from getting a cup of coffee. He probably  _ should _ have checked and saw if they had new assignments.

"Mmm, yeah we do," he said, taking a seat and having the cup of strong tea he brewed for Draco float across the room towards him. "More war clean-up.  _ Merlin—  _ it's been six years, haven't we caught everyone suspected of Death Eater activity?"

Draco sighed, taking the cup of tea and giving him a grateful nod. “Someone is always going to think they have the path to a better world. What is it, this time?”

Harry opened the file, scanned a few lines and groaned. "It's  _ another  _ bloody 'We can bring back Voldemort' cult." He tossed the file onto his desk and took a big sip of his coffee. "I was there, okay? Not happening again."

“You’re still going on about that? You’ve really got to leave some things in the past. We get it. You’re the Boy Who Lived Twice,” Draco teased him, leaning over to pick up the file. “Interesting, though I don’t see why they’re sending us.”

"Probably because of the Boy Who Lived Twice reputation, ta very much. Sometimes, catching normal criminals is nice, too. Keeps things interesting," he said, looking over the file a bit closer. "Have you ever heard of the Crowlins? They aren't a Sacred 28 family, but are they old money?"

“The Crowlins? Yes, they’re considered adequate enough, in a pinch. And yes, one or two of them were on his side in the war. They’re trying to start something up, then?” Looking over the file, he watched Draco frown. “They want us to do it tonight? That’s no amount of time to prepare.”

"So that's why they want us." Harry was well known for, well, often leaping before he looked. If you were in a rush… you called Potter.

He took of his glasses and rubbed his hands over his eyes, already tired. "Okay. Alright, fine. Tonight. Does it say how many people we're expected to bring in… or take down?"

“Says that they expect there to be five people at this little ‘meeting.’ We’ve dealt with worse.”

Harry nodded and rolled his shoulders a bit. They'd taken on ten, once, just the pair of them, and it had landed harry in St. Mungo's for a bit. Five between the two of them would be a piece of cake. "You're right about that."

“They want us to have our wards and perimeters set up by six.”

Harry sighed and put his glasses back on. He looked up at Draco, seeing how focused he was on the file. "Okay. Six it is. You'll be ready?"

Draco scoffed, looking back up at Harry. “Do you even know who you’re asking?”

"How could I forget?" He grinned up at Draco and took another sip of his coffee. "I have the most meticulous and prepared partner in the DMLE. That might be why they gave you to me in the first place."

"So that at least one of us could be the prepared one?" Draco was smirking back at him like this was all some silly kids' game.

"So I don't end up being the Boy Who Lived Thrice," he said, with a wink. He finished his coffee and closed the file. "Right. Six pm, Auror Malfoy." He always liked to tease Draco, calling him that.

"We'll have the anti Apparition wards set, and the perimeter checked for His Royal Majesty." Arse.

"Oi, that's a bit inaccurate, I think. I think of myself as a 'knight in swirling robes', as should you," he joked, referencing a common phrase in Teddy's story books. And if anyone looked like a prince, it was definitely Draco. And faerie prince, at that.

"Well, the way you charge into danger, I can certainly see the likeness,” he chuckled.

Harry held himself back from suggesting that he could be  _ Draco's  _ knight in swirling robes, if given the chance. They had a raid in only a few hours, he couldn't flirt and disrupt their work relationship at a time like this.

"And that's why I have you, to keep me from doing anything  _ too  _ stupid with your foresight and planning." He stood and patted Draco on the mid-back a bit. Draco sat up straight, shooting Harry a strange look. Right, right, okay, too friendly.

“And where are you off to?”

"Bit of a debrief-slash-planning session with Ron, nothing to worry about. I won't go out there early and on my own." Though he's done it before. Really, Draco is the more responsible one of the pair. "Might get a bite after. Can I bring you back something?"

“Just a wrap,” Draco hummed as he looked over the file again. For being such a priss that probably used to love having grand banquets, one of Draco’s favorite lunches seemed to be a chicken wrap.

Harry chuckled to himself and nodded. "Of course, dear. Back in a tick." And with that, he swept down the hall to his best friend's new office.

“ _ I’m not your dear! _ ” He heard Draco shouting after him. Ah, he did love routine.

Harry returned to their shared office a while later, plan and chicken wrap ready for his partner. He also had an unsweetened berry iced tea for Draco, too, at the insistence of the café girl. (He just hoped it wouldn't be tossed on his robes in disgust.) Draco didn’t even look up at him, just taking notes on one of his parchments. “Took you awhile. Stopped to flirt with Christine again?”

"The meeting with Ron ran a bit longer than I thought, he was busy with another team when I got there. Perks of being Deputy Head, I suppose." He set Draco's wrap and drink on his desk, away from any files. "And Christine sends her regards. That's a strawberry black tea she thought you'd enjoy, by the way."

Draco rose an eyebrow, taking a curious sip before looking like he was trying not to spit it back out. “You don’t happen to have any sugar, by chance, do you?”

Harry laughed a bit at Draco's expression and summoned the little bowl of sugar from the Aurors' tea set in the break room, wandlessly and wordlessly. "There you are, dear. Sugar for the sweetest." He knew Draco would never admit it, but Harry took a certain kind of delight in the pink flush he saw creeping up his neck.

“Enough of that, or I’ll file against you. You know I will.”

"You've never filed against me in five years for anything remotely serious." He'd reported Harry to Robards for ridiculous things — accidentally using his tea mug, bringing in a cake for his 21st birthday, landing himself in St. Mungo's — but never for sexual harassment or anything that legitimately counted as inappropriate workplace behavior.

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. “As you so love to prove, there’s a first time for everything.” He proceeded to drop no less than 10 sugars into his large drink, keeping eye contact with Harry the entire time.

Harry winced. "You're practically having pudding in your tea, Draco." Disgusting. Painfully endearing. "Are you done with your sugar?"

“You got me a tall glass, I needed more sugar than usual to compensate. Yes, I’m done.”

And with a snap of Harry's fingers, the bowl of sugar vanished from Draco's desk, returning to the break room where it belonged. Harry grinned to himself as the flush on Draco's neck and cheeks turned a bit darker and finally reached his ears.  _ Jackpot. _ Draco was muttering something to himself, something about ‘arseholes’ before he took a sip of his tea and a bite of his chicken wrap.

Harry just shook his head fondly and took his seat, taking out his own late lunch. It was important to have the energy to go into a raid-- exhaustion and low blood sugar have landed Harry in the first aid office before. (The Ministry healers knew him by name, from all the small injuries that didn't warrant a trip to St. Mungo's.) Across from him, Draco huffed and shifted in his chair before raising an eyebrow. “Any information from our ‘Deputy Auror’ about the mission?”

"He's just said there's not much information on them… they weren't necessarily Marked in the war, but they supported Voldemort. It's really strange. They didn't have anyone go through Hogwarts in the last 15 years, either, so it seems like they weren't much involved at all."

"A bit odd, but not overly so. Crowlins. They're not particularly well liked among purebloods as is, most likely they couldn't secure a marriage for their heir."

Harry hummed around his bite of sandwich. As much as he hated to admit it, the whole pureblood culture and traditions around marriage, the courting and the alliances, fascinated him. Odds were, his own father hadn't done much of it, because his mother wouldn't have known about it. "So my question is… why now? Why wait six years after Voldemort is dead to try this? Shouldn't they have, you know, joined up when they could?"

"Think about it logically. That's exactly what someone like you would expect. You'd be ready. This way? They may stand a chance, if we didn't already know." He did have a point. Harry was really desperate if he was lingering on how Draco's lips molded around his glass..

He blinked a couple times to clear his head.  _ Not now, Potter, not before a raid. Stay focused.  _ "They might've if there was actually a way to bring him back this time. No more Horcruxes." And he tapped his own fading scar for good measure.

Draco hummed, setting his glass down and licking his lips with small dabs of his tongue, like a kitten. "They can still hope, unfortunately."

_ Merlin, the things I'd have him do with that tongue…  _ Harry swallowed thickly and cleared his throat, hoping he hadn't gone red in the face. Though judging by that smirk, he had. He and Draco had always teased and bantered with each other, but sometimes, the other man really got under Harry's skin.

"Right… well, they won't have much to hope for after this. Everything points this to be a pretty simple raid."

“I’d have to agree. I don’t see anything leading to this being more than a simple arrest.”

Harry nodded and finished off his sandwich. It would be nice getting home at a reasonable hour, maybe be able to push the paperwork until tomorrow morning… he could already imagine the little lie-in he'd have… Now the raid just had to go right. Right. Cause everything was just that easy for Harry bloody Potter.

It wasn’t long before Draco and Harry were at the raid site, Draco setting up the wards, and Harry securing the perimeter.

The Crowlins didn't have a huge manor house like the Malfoys did, though it did seem like a large country house. There were no Muggles for miles, another thing to be glad of. Draco made sure no one but he and Harry could Apparate from the grounds, to prevent any escapes, and Harry got a sense of the surrounding area.

It looked like the average 'raising an evil cult leader' type of place, a field or two to one side and a forest to the other. (Harry was briefly reminded of a few Muggle horror films.) He popped back next to Draco, who didn't even flinch at his stubborn appearance.

"Wards up then, dear?" He gripped his wand and slid it from the holster at his thigh.

Draco shot him an annoyed look. "Enough. Yes, they are. The perimeter is secure?" Draco waved his wand, and Harry watched the air around them shimmer to indicate that the wards were indeed active. Harry always did love to see the pearly shine of Draco's wards. It put his mind at ease.

"Indeed it is." A flick of his wrist showed the containment charms and 'fence hexes' that Harry had set up. "Ready?" Draco gave him a nod, his wand at the ready. Right then. No time for fanfare, they might set off alarms the second they stepped on the property. Harry nodded back at him in confirmation, and they both dashed towards the house, crossing the property line.

As suspected, there were alert wards on the grounds, and a siren sounded. The door of the house slammed open and a greying wizard in black robes stood in the doorway. Harry stunned and tied him up with barely a movement of his wand. Well, they knew they were here, now. The both of them moved quickly, running through the door and they were immediately received in the main hall by the rest of the party. It was a nice house, at least. Draco moved fast, dodging spells and flicking a few of his own out.

There were more than five family members, that much was obvious. Harry guessed it was closer to eight, if he counted the man he’d tied up in the doorway.  _ Fucking dammit.  _ This wasn’t as straightforward as he’d thought. He took on a poor-woman’s Bellatrix and her wand flew from her hand without him having to say his signature spell. He and Draco took down a witch each, and turned their attention to the rest of the enraged family.

Glancing to Draco, Harry saw that most of their attention was on him, as Draco seemed to only be battling one wizard, as opposed to Harry’s three. Right, okay. Easy enough. Draco wouldn’t take long to down his own opponent, then he would help Harry take his down. This still wasn’t one of their hardest fights, they could deal with this. The room seemed to brighten a small amount and both men glanced to the source. The moon. A full moon, tonight? That was odd-

A low growling drew Harry’s attention from the window, and he turned towards the source. The wizard Draco had been dueling had staggered back and dropped his wand. In an instant, a huge salt and pepper wolf took his place. Although Harry was dueling three wizards of his own, he saw the moment the werewolf leaped at Draco.

He saw the moment the stunning spell did nothing.

And he saw the moment the wolf sank its huge sharp teeth into Draco’s pale neck.

Hearing the screaming, Harry immediately rolled away from the other wizards and towards Draco, shooting off a few curses towards the wolf, and not stopping until it was properly Stupefied. They needed to just subdue these assholes, call the rest of the squad, and get Draco  _ out of there. _

Draco’s blood was spreading across the wooden floor, and Harry had a brief flashback to their ill-fated duel in the bathrooms in sixth year. Draco was going grey quickly and Harry was panicking.

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me, Draco Malfoy, I swear to God—!” He held him to his chest, the blood soaking into his maroon robes. He sent a frantic Patronus to Ron, ordering the rest of the emergency squad to get there  _ now!! _

Draco snapped back at him, a hand on his neck. “I’m not going to bloody die!” He pushed away from Harry and rose his arm, casting a spell or two before he seemed to wobble on his legs again and fall back towards Harry. Great, now Harry had to hold Draco up cause he was practically fainting in the middle of this duel. He needed to get them out of there. He needed  _ out. _

He heard the pops of multiple Apparitions outside, and now that he knew help had arrived, he held Draco close and focused on getting him to the hospital. One gut-wrenching pull of magic later, and they were in the waiting room, Draco now bleeding onto the hardwood floor. “We need help,  **_now!! Get me a healer!_ ** ”

Draco was shaking his head, pushing at Harry again. “No- No, I’ll be fine- I need to  _ go- _ ”

“Draco you’re going to bleed out if we don’t— You can’t just  _ go _ .” A few healers came in, ready for action, and one of them gasped. “Thank God— He’s lost so much blood, please—!” One healer conjured a gurney and two others helped Harry place a still weakly fighting Draco onto it. It took a wave of a wand from one of the healers to put Draco under, and Harry watched them quickly take him away. How had this all gone tits up so fast? Hell, he  _ prayed _ that Draco was going to be okay.

Harry spent the night out in the waiting room, long after the receptionist had left and security had asked him to leave. He hadn’t left, curled up in a ball on the worn leather sofa, and security had left him alone. He needed to know Draco was alive and doing alright, even if that meant waiting until normal visiting hours opened at 10am. “Mr. Potter?” Jolting at hearing his name called, Harry looked up to the healer that was standing next to the sofa. “You… ought to come with us.”

Immediately, Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach. He got up off the sofa onto shaky legs and followed the healer. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Something had gone wrong. He must’ve bled out and… Draco must’ve died.  _ Oh Christ—  _ “Wh-what happened..? Is he okay? Can I see him?”

“We’ve already alerted the Head and Deputy Auror, of course, but seeing as he is your partner, we believe you would know him best, and best be able to determine what it is that happened.” Her shoes ‘clip-clip’ed against the floor as they continued towards Draco’s room, and… She made it sound like he was alive, but what did they mean  _ he _ could figure out what…

She opened the door and they both stepped inside to find the room empty. Harry looked around, spying the perfectly made bed. “...where is he?”

“We were hoping you could enlighten  _ us  _ with that information, Mr. Potter.” She gestured towards the bed. “One of our Healers cam in this morning to check on him and to switch out his bandages to see that he was gone. The room is exactly as he found it.”

“You mean to tell me… that he just up and  _ left _ ?” Then, Harry remembered Draco’s words last night.

“That, or there are more nefarious purposes behind his disappearance. As I said, we were hoping you may be able to determine the intent.” Harry shook his head, hands curling into fists at his sides.

“No. No, the only people who know he’s here are me and Ron, um, the Deputy Auror… we were on a raid, and it went wrong. I called for backup and brought him here. Have you alerted his mother, yet? She’s his emergency contact.”

The healer nodded, looking down at her clipboard. “She was contacted just before we checked on him this morning, though she was informed our visiting ours aren’t for another few hours. We haven’t told her yet of his absence.”

“Just— you don’t have to, I’ll tell her.” What could he tell her? That her son was injured, bitten by a werewolf, and now missing? She’d hex him where he stood. He was partially to blame for this whole thing, wasn’t he? “Fuck… he just disappeared? He was fixed up to be able Apparate?”

“It seems so, yes. Do you know where he would Apparate?”

“There’s a chance he’d go to his mother.” That momma’s boy. “That’s the first place I can think of.” If he was with Narcissa, Harry would be bringing him straight back here. “Thank you so much for saving him… he scared me so much.”

“Of course, Auror Potter. We recommend, of course, that he remain at St. Mungo’s for further treatment.” Right. Harry agreed with that, of course. The problem was that Draco obviously didn’t.

“When I find him, I’ll be bringing him back, that’s for sure.” Draco continued to amaze and terrify Harry. Even he would never run from the hospital with a werewolf bite. Taking a look around the room, Harry noted how everything was clean and tidy, and none of Draco’s personal effects were left in the room. He’d definitely left of his own will.

Walking back to the lobby, he bee-lined for the Floo network. He needed to find Draco.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco took a deep breath when he left his room at St. Mungo's. He knew the laws. If they determined for certain that his injury was a wolf bite, they would be required to register him. He wasn't going to let that happen. He'd only barely built his reputation back up after the war, this would shatter it entirely. All his hard work— Auror training, the long hours, the dangerous cases with Harry— it would all be for nothing.

The healers had fixed him up quite nicely, all things considered. There had been… quite a considerable amount of flesh torn from his neck and shoulder, and that was all fixed, though he would bear a gruesome scar for the rest of his life. A few blood replenishing potions and a Draught of Peace had finished the job well enough for Draco to escape and not die from his injuries.

He had to get out. Fleeing St. Mungo’s wouldn’t be enough; England wasn’t safe for him now. He needed to go somewhere. Somewhere he wasn't known, where they didn't know who he was, wouldn't force him to register… Far as he knew, he had family in France. Maybe he could find them? Malfoys and Blacks were typically very close, they would hopefully accept him.

Draco quickly made his way to the Floo Network, throwing down a fistful of powder. "The Ministry." He needed approval for international travel, but they had no reason to deny him at that moment. He pulled his robes closer around him (having Scourgified the blood from them) and stepped through the flames.

The Ministry never seemed to sleep, witches and wizards entering from other Floo fireplaces in the entrance hall, same as Draco, though it was before 6am. He took several calming breaths as he entered the elevator and pressed the button for the Department of Portkeys, Int’l and Domestic. As he had suspected, he was the only one in line, and a young witch sat behind the counter, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. She smiled at him and set her coffee down.

“Morning, sir. Picking up a portkey or reserving?”

Draco stood in front of the counter, attempting to keep himself calm. There was no reason to panic, he was just going on a holiday. "Are there any immediately available for France?"

The witch hummed and the large ledger in front of her fluttered open to the correct page. “Let’s see, there should be… Where in France would you prefer? I’ve got one scheduled for Marseilles at 9am that was almost cancelled… Nice and Orléans both leave at noon… Oh! And I have one for Paris that’s going in six minutes. Would you like me to put you down for that one, sir? It’s only nine Galleons, because of the short notice—”

“Yes, yes, Paris is perfect. Charge it to the Malfoy accounts at Gringotts if you would.” Draco handed over his wand for verification, tapping his foot. Six minutes was perfect. He didn’t like the idea of waiting around to leave. Knowing Harry, he’d pounce on Draco before he had the chance.

“Right away, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, cheerful as anything, and unwittingly helpful in Draco’s escape. Her spelled quill documented his name, the destination, and the transferal of Galleons in the little slot that read _07 MAR 2005:_ _Paris 0545._ “If you need to Summon any luggage, now would be a good time,” she added, picking up a small black cameo brooch from her drawer, which Draco assumed was his portkey.

Draco nodded and took the brooch from her, sticking it upon his lapel. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.” He gave her his winning, charming smile as he walked over to sit down in the waiting room. Waving his wand, Draco first summoned a bag from his office, then various articles of clothing and toiletries without so much as a word spoken. He packed them all away quickly and took a deep breath. He would need to send a letter to his mother, but… He wouldn’t be able to come back home. Harry knew exactly what happened. He would  _ have _ to register.

The large clock on the wall marked 60 seconds until his portkey would activate. He stood and moved into the center of the room. The witch gave him a small wave and a smile. “Enjoy your holiday, Mr. Malfoy,” she called, and the little brooch began to glow in his hand.

One gut-pulling, stomach-twisting, heart-squeezing few moments of twisting through time and space later, and Draco found himself in the portkey arrivals hall in the French Ministry for Magic. Thankful that he hadn’t gotten sick, he simply tucked the brooch into his breast pocket, smoothed his hands through his hair, and greeted the arrivals security officer on his way out of the hall.

Handing his wand over for verification, he took it back and tucked his bag close. He needed to find somewhere to stay. For now, he would stay in a hotel, but he would most likely need to find a more permanent residence. If need be, he could ask the French Ministry as to the location of any Blacks. He found it unlikely he would find any Malfoys, but he supposed he could try.

Right. Hotel first, connections second. Well, find a hotel, write to mother,  _ then  _ look for family. Gods, there was so much he needed to do. Eventually, he’d need to brew his own Wolfsbane, and the ingredients probably wouldn’t come cheap. (Perhaps he could convince his mother to send his cauldrons…) Alright. He and his mother had visited once or twice before. He just needed to be sure that he properly remembered…

Walking to the Floo Network, Draco took a deep breath. What was… He remembered that cafe. The name of it… Ah, yes. “ _ La Coupe de Vin, _ ” he called into the fire as he threw the powder down. Thankfully, they were open early, as he stepped through the Floo. If he remembered correctly,  _ La Coupe de Vin  _ was in the first magical neighborhood, on the northern side of the Seine. Perfect.

The maître d' approached him and offered a smile. “Bonjour, monsieur, what can I get for you this morning?” Though the man spoke only French, Draco was thankful his years of French under his mother and governess had stayed with him.

“A room, if you have one available?” Draco gave him a smile. “How much is it per night?”

“30 Bezants a night, monsieur, and it includes your breakfast,” the other wizard said, a small notebook appearing in his hand. He glanced down at the page, and back up at Draco’s face. “A single room for you?”

Draco nodded at him. “Yes. I’m afraid I’m visiting from out of town, what would that translate to for Galleons? It’s been a while for me.”

“Of course, monsieur.” The wizard pulled out his wand and tapped his notebook twice— Draco assumed this changed the currency in the records. “Ah, that would be eight Galleons and two Sickles, please. How many nights do you plan to stay?”

“I’m not certain.” Draco looked through his bag and found the pouch of Galleons he’d thought to bring with him. “I’ll pay a week in advance.” Though the Frenchman’s eyes went wide for a moment, he said nothing but ‘ _ thank you, monsieur’  _ as Draco gave him the correct number of coins. He brought Draco over to the counter, entered the coins into the register, and produced a brass key with a navy-blue tassel attached.

“Very good, monsieur. Room 309 will be yours for the next week, at least.” He explained when breakfast was served, and even provided Draco with a small map, showing both wizarding and Muggle Paris. Draco nodded to him, taking the key.

“Thank you.” He needed to set his things down. “And a request. If anyone looks for me, I would like discretion being kept as to my location.”

“Of course, monsieur. You were never here. Shall I show you to your room?”

“Yes, please.” It didn’t take long for them to get to his room, and Draco placed two Galleons in the hand of the maître d’. “Thank you.”

  
“It’s nothing, monsieur. Please let us know if we can do anything else for you. Good day.” And he left Draco alone in the room. Looking around the room, Draco let his bag hit the floor. He fell to sit on the bed, his hands over his eyes as he sobbed. He was turned. He was a  _ bloody werewolf _ in France. He couldn’t even go back home, or to his job, or… Or anything. With that one bite, his entire life was  _ gone. _


	3. Chapter 3

Apparating to the front doors of Malfoy Manor, Harry knocked while trying to not seem so panicked. The doors opened a minute later. "Harry. What are you doing, here?"

“Is Draco here? I need to see him—”  _ God please let him be here, please let him be fine.  _ Harry looked… a bit of a mess. He hadn't had time to try to get himself together, he just needed to  _ find him. _

"Draco? He's at St. Mungo's, isn't he? I was waiting for visiting hours to see him—"

Harry groaned, putting his face in his hands for a moment. “Okay. Okay! This is fine—” He looked up into Narcissa’s anxious face and sighed. “I brought him there last night. Our raid went horribly wrong, and he was hurt. I stayed the night in their waiting room… and they woke me up about 15 minutes ago to tell me that he disappeared. He escaped.”

"He what?" Narcissa seemed to stare at him another minute before ushering him inside. "Come in, darling, please. What happened to him?"

Harry waited until they were seated in the parlour to explain. “The raid, it was to break up the Crowling family. They’re one of those ‘Revive Voldemort’ cults.” Narcissa winced, as Harry suspected she would. It was more than a sore subject. “It was the full moon and, well… We didn’t know one of them was an unregistered werewolf. If I’d known, we wouldn't’ have gone last night, we would’ve waited for the new moon—”

Narcissa cut him off. “Harry… what happened to my son?”

“H-he was bitten, quite badly. Right here.” He gestured to where his neck met his shoulder. “There was so much blood, I thought he would die… But he hasn’t. He’s been  _ turned  _ and now he’s on the run.”

"He's been… Draco's been turned?" He watched her expression turn to shock and horror at the thought. Having been around Molly enough, he knew what a mother looked like when her heart was breaking for her children. "Have you asked Blaiziel or Pancella?"

Harry shook his head. “No, I figured I’d try here first. And you needed to know. I… I don’t know if Draco would want me to tell Blaise and Pansy. He’d want to do that himself.”

Narcissa nodded, waving her hand. "Mimsy, if you would- Thank you." A house elf appeared with a tray of tea and biscuits, setting it down before bowing to Narcissa and snapping itself away. "It is possible that Draco went to either of the two of them. He trusts them entirely."

Harry took the teacup that had filled itself and floated up to him. “He does, I know he does.” Harry took a sip and closed his eyes for a minute. “It looks like I’m going to be stalking him again,” he tried to joke, but the atmosphere was too tense.

"Any other time, I'm certain he'd be no less than thrilled," she told him seriously as she picked up her own cup. Harry tapped his fingertips against the fine china teacup and paused, thinking.

“You know? It’s funny… I’m trying to imagine my life without him in it… and I can’t seem to do it. I definitely don’t think I could continue being an Auror if he wasn’t my partner.” And already Harry knew that Draco probably couldn’t return to the force. As understanding and accommodating as Robards and Ron were… plenty of people would raise issues with a werewolf in the Aurors, even with all the progressive creatures’ rights bills that Hermione was putting up in the Wizengamot.

"I'm certain he'd say the same thing about you, dear. You wouldn't believe how often I'd heard of you through him." She was smiling at him, and… It really reminded him of Molly, it was almost honey sweet, and as warm as the tea they sipped from. It was obvious that she cared deeply about Draco… and perhaps Harry held out hope that maybe she carded for him a bit, too.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” he muttered, thinking back to how Draco could rant for a half hour about the littlest things Harry did.  _ How dare you allow the deli people to put mayonnaise on my chicken wrap, Potter! That’s my tea mug, Potter, I’ll report you to Robards for this! I’m  _ **_not_ ** _ your dear!  _ “I’m sure he complains about me often enough. I certainly hear quite a bit about it.”

"...Oh. Well, I suppose," she said with a tone that made it sound like that wasn't what she was talking about. But then what else could she be talking about? Complaining about Harry was his favorite pastime. But he wasn’t about to argue with Draco’s mother, especially when he was newly-bitten and definitely missing.

“...I do really enjoy listening to him talk. EVen if he’s complaining about me. Or insulting me.”

Narcissa laughed. “Oh, he does do a bit of that, yes. But you know he means well.” Well… Sometimes, yeah. How often did Draco make an insult into some roundabout compliment? Left-handed compliments were deeply embedded in upper class British society, and apparently that weren't for Muggles and magical aristocrats alike.

“He does, doesn’t he… I really need to find him. I need to make sure he doesn’t do something drastic and out of character.” Harry set down his teacup, stood up, and paused. “...it’s too early to go around and ask about him, isn’t it?” Neither Pansy nor Blaise would be awake. The pair of them liked their lie-ins, and it was only chance that Narcissa was awake and ready to have company.

“I don’t see why not. If he’s there, you’ll have confirmation he’s fine. If he’s not there, you have good reason to worry. If you see him, be sure to send him my way, yes? I have words for him.”

“Believe me, I have a few words of my own for him. Thanks for the tea, Narcissa… I’ll tell you if I find him. Send me an owl if he shows up here first? Just to ease my mind, you know?”

“I will. And… Draco or no, would you like to have dinner? I understand if you’ll be busy-”

“No, no! I’d like that, very much. If I don’t find him today, I’ll just worry myself sick about him at Grimmauld. Dinner with you would be much more enjoyable.”

She smiled at him. “Wonderful.” Standing, she walked over to him and took his face in her hands, kissing his hairline. “Please find him, and bring him home?”

Harry was stunned for a moment. Had Draco’s mother actually… kissed his head? Cupped his face? He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. (He hadn’t thought she’d actually liked him very much. More like tolerated him for Draco’s sake.) “I’ll do my best. I want him home, too.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll expect you at seven.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She let him go and walked him to the door. Halfway down the wide gravel path, he focused hard on Pansy Parkinson’s lovely little house by the sea in Brighton. A moment and a pop later, he found himself striding up to her front door.

Harry knocked loudly, and the door opened after a long few moments of him simply waiting there. Pansy, it seemed, had thrown on a lacy satin black robe over herself, maybe hoping to snatch a new toy. “Oh. Potter. What are you doing here?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have Draco over, would you?” Although guessing from the robe, Harry already knew that Pansy was either alone or entertaining someone who definitely wasn’t Draco.

She frowned, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorway. “No. I haven’t seen him since our weekly lunch on Thursday.” Fuck. Well, Harry was quickly running out of places where Draco could be hiding. He dragged a hand down his face and sighed. Pansy was looking at him oddly, one dark eyebrow arched in question.

“Right, well, if he comes round, send me an owl, yeah? His mother and I are looking for him.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just for his mother.” Right, because really, the person that tolerated Harry wasn’t Narcissa at all, it was Pansy, and probably Blaise too.

“Thanks. Sorry for interrupting your Sunday lie-in. See you around, Parkinson.”

“Goodbye, Potter,” Pansy sighed, waving him off.

One more friend to ask after, the illustrious bachelor Blaise Zabini, who coincidentally didn't live too far from Grimmauld. Harry apparated to the closest Apparition spot to Blaise's muggle flat and walked the rest of the way. It was a lovely Sunday morning, apart from the grey clouds that suggested an afternoon drizzle.

Harry let himself into Blaise's building with a quick little  _ Alohomora  _ and climbed the stairs to Blaise's penthouse bachelor pad, knocking solidly on his door three times. Blaise threw the door open almost immediately. “Ah, I knew you couldn’t… Oh. Potter.”

"I know, I'm everyone's least favorite person this morning. You were expecting someone else?" Someones, more like. Harry knew quite a bit about the drama involving Blaise, Seamus, and Dean, as well as Blaise's growing collection of side-pieces.

“Nah, nah, not really. Any reason you’re here? No offense, but Chosen Savior isn’t much  _ my _ type.”

Harry blushed, but didn't mean to. (Blaise was a handsome man, sue him.) "It's fine. Um, you wouldn't happen to have Draco hidden away in there, would you?"

“Draco? No, we were supposed to do brunch tomorrow, why? You two fighting, again?”

Harry frowned, confused. "Fighting? No, um-- alright, long story short, he was hurt in a raid last night and escaped St. Mungo's this morning. I can't find him anywhere and I've already been to the Manor and to Pansy's. His mother and I are worried so… if you see him, owl me or Narcissa, will you?"

“He’s nowhere? I’ll owl you if I see him, but when Draco Malfoy decides to hide, he’s incredibly difficult to be found. You know, for those that  _ don’t _ have a magical map.” Harry flushed a bit, embarrassed. Blaise liked to take the piss out of him for stalking Draco in Hogwarts, especially after he'd drunkenly told them about the Marauders' Map.

"Right. Thanks for your help Blaise. Have a good day."

Harry took the long way back to Grimmauld, walking and taking the tube up to Islington. He sighed, messing up his hair even more.  _ Oh Draco… where the hell have you gone? _


	4. Chapter 4

_Dear Draco,_

_Where the hell have you gone?_

_I_ _know the raid ~~went badly~~ was a total disaster, and we were incredibly underprepared for when things went wrong… I had no idea it was a full moon…_

_Bloody hell, Draco, we're partners! We're supposed to have each other's backs. What the hell am I supposed to say to Robards? You disappeared with a fresh werewolf gash, and St. Mungo's has reported you missing… Yes, I specifically asked them to. I’ve been in contact with your mother, too, and you haven’t been to see her either._

_She’s upset and worried for you, ~~you prick~~ . I’m worried about you, too. She's not the only one worrying. I haven’t said anything about what happened to you that night… But you need to owl me back or I will. It’s been a bloody fucking week._

_You don't have to do this alone, I can help you. We'll find someone to brew wolfsbane potion for you so the full moons aren't as bad. I know that Remus had a hard time, and he had my dad and Sirius ~~and Pettigrew~~ to help him. I'll start working on animagus transformations— You don't have to be alone, I promise there are people you can run to. You don't have to run away and punish yourself._

_It wasn't supposed to happen, so don't you dare feel like you somehow deserve this. You aren't a monster, either._

_I just need to know that you're okay alive, Draco._

_Please._

_-Harry_

 Draco read over the letter that had come in and had to take more than one calming breath. Something in him ached _terribly._ Why couldn’t Harry see that he couldn’t come back? He would wait to write his return letter. He just… Oh, his poor mother.

Draco's eagle owl Porthos had delivered the letter and promptly decided on a nap. It wasn't necessarily an easy fly, even for such a large and strong owl. Draco absentmindedly pet the great bird's soft head. Damn… he'd have to reply, wouldn't he? Harry might tear up the world in looking for him. (The stalking never really stopped, had it?) Setting the envelope aside, Draco sighed softly. He would have to reply, but it could wait. Flexing his fingers, he stared down at them. Already, he was feeling different. He didn't like it.

He felt… stiff. Aching. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch. Already he detested the physical symptoms of his lycanthropic affliction. He already hated it. He gently massaged his aching hands as he looked out his small, third floor window. Paris was lit up, warm yellow lights contrasting nicely against the inky blue-black of the night sky. The moon was waning, Draco could feel it in his bones.

The thought made him unwillingly shake. He now was intensely aware of the phase of the moon, despite not being able to see it in the sky. If there'd been any doubt in his mind that that bite had truly turned him, it was gone now. Trying to calm himself, Draco dipped his quill in the ink pot to begin writing his return letter.

_Mother,_

_Please don't worry yourself over me. The raid with Potter went poorly, yes, but the Healers put me back together just fine. I'm currently taking a holiday in France. I need time away from it all. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but this is my informing you that I am safe, and taking care of myself._

_I love you._

_Yours,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Tapping the quill to his tongue briefly, Draco set the letter aside to dry. Now for his letter to Harry…


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner with Narcissa Malfoy… does one dress up for it? Robes, or would nice Muggle clothes do? Christ— Harry would be getting an earful from Draco right now… He'd ask Blaise or Pansy, but they'd just take the piss or give bad advice on purpose. Harry could already hear Hermione’s voice in his head. ‘ _If they expect you to change just to please them, then maybe you should be distancing yourself. Only change yourself if you think you need to, not because they want you to._ ’ Ugh. That wasn’t helpful right now. Maybe just some nice trousers and a nice shirt? He didn’t want to make it seem like he cared _too_ much, after all.

Also… this was dinner with his work partner/friend's mum… he wasn't going on a date. That shocked a bit of a laugh out of him as he changed into a dark blue collared shirt. The girl at the shop said it would bring out his eyes, make his skin glow. (He didn't know about that, but what did he know?) Looking in the mirror, he nodded. This was probably as good as it was going to get. He didn’t want to be late, at least. Narcissa seemed to like him, he didn’t want to give her reason not to.

He thought of bringing a bottle of wine, but decided against it. He checked his pocket watch and approached his fireplace for a bit of Floo powder. He tossed it into the fire and spoke clearly-- "Malfoy Manor"-- before he stepped through. He arrived in the entrance hall just as the grandfather clock rang for seven pm.

“Harry, dear. Right on time.” Narcissa was there to receive him, smiling at him, though he saw the brittle heartbreak beneath it. “I suspect, since Draco isn’t at your side, that you didn’t have much luck in finding him?”

"No, I didn't. He wasn't with Pansy or Blaise, and he didn't go back to St. Mungo's. They've all said they'll owl if he turns up, though."

She nodded. “Thank you for doing what you can, but I believe we both know that Draco is particularly strong-willed at the worst of times. Why don’t we move to the dining room, though? You must be famished.”

He nods and offers his arm to her with a smile, like he's seen Draco do at the occasional Ministry gala. "Fantastic idea, Mrs. Malfoy." Apparently that was the right move, because she was smiling at him and taking his arm, leading them to the dining room. There was a big, long table where in their hayday the Malfoys probably entertained a hundred guests. As it was, the only places set were at the head of the table, and just beside it.

He led her to the head of the table and a bit of wandless magic on his part had her chair sliding back enough for her to sit down. (Maybe he wanted to impress her… as much as he could.) She laughed as she sat down, apparently amused by his display. "You know, the way Draco tells his stories would make someone believe you don't have a gentle bone in your body."

He can't help but chuckle, because the definitely sounded like Draco. "He must make me sound like some kind of barbarian, huh? Not everyone can be as graceful. Really, I'm just a bit clumsy and headstrong, that's all." He paused for a moment. "I can be gentle."

"I know, dear. Draco has always had an inclination for elaborate and fanciful exaggeration." He did, didn't he? It seemed like Draco just loved to blow everything out of proportion. He had to wonder why that was.

The small house elf, apparently named Mimsy, appeared then with two steaming bowls of what Harry immediately recognized as French onion soup-- one of his favorites. How had she known? Had Draco actually mentioned Harry's favorite _soup_ to his mother at some point?

"Only five courses tonight, Harry, I hope that's alright." God, he'd be stuffed by the time he left.

"That's more than fine, Mrs. Malfoy, really."

“I’ve heard tales, of course, of all the legendary skipped meals between the both of you.” Draco Malfoy, that dirty little _rat!_ If Harry thought Draco was manipulative, apparently that was _nothing_ to say of his mother. Harry bit back a rather rude reply and sighed.

"...it's really not as bad as he makes it seem. I do eat, you know." Mimsy placed the bowl of golden soup in front of Harry and he almost immediately began to drool. _Oh this was going to be delicious._

Narcissa nodded along as she picked up her spoon and took a small sip of her own soup. “Oh, I’m certain you eat just as much as he does." Harry copied her motions, ladling a bit of soup into his mouth. In all honesty, he had to suppress a groan of delight. _Fucking delicious._ How could Draco be happy with chicken wraps from the Ministry café when he had food like this at home.

"Well— erm, when things get busy, it's usually the first thing that slips my mind… I don't mean to forget, you know?"

“I understand, darling, no worries.” For the most part, their soup was had in private, then Narcissa brought out the appetizer and salad together- “So, Harry dear.” He swallowed the (delicious) bite of fried ravioli and turned his attention back to his hostess.

"Yes, ma'am?"

“What _are_ your intentions, exactly, towards Draco?” Harry had never known true fear until that moment. He'd stared down multiple international criminals, dueled Death Eaters, and killed one of the worst wizards of all time… and it all paled in comparison to this little question. He's lucky he didn't choke on his ravioli.

"U-um, I'd really like to find him and make sure he's safe, Mrs. Malfoy--"

“Harry. I’m his mother. I know everything.” What… What exactly did she _mean_ by ‘she knew everything?’ Did she know…? Did she know about the ill-fated almost-date a year and a half ago..?

They'd finished up a long, arduous case and, to celebrate, they'd had dinner at Harry's. He had cooked, Draco brought wine, there was some whiskey with dessert… and Harry had kissed him. In fact, it had been a bit more than kissing. Harry had loved the feel of Draco under his hands, just as he loved Draco's hands on him. Harry had thought they might head to bed… but Draco had pulled back, muttered some half-apology, and was through Harry's Floo before he'd even known what was going on.

And they hadn't talked about it since.

Narcissa only leaned over and patted his hand. “So? Tell me, then. What are your intentions?”

"I want him to give me a chance," Harry admitted, after a bit of a pause. "I'd like him to see that I could be just as good of a life partner as I am a work partner-- maybe not life partner _yet_ , dating is good but--" He cut himself off. "It's clear I'm not going to get that. So I just want him home and safe."

“Oh, Harry darling…” At least she was smiling? That had to count for something. “Draco was right about one thing, I’ll tell you that,” she said like this was all some great joke. “You are absolutely oblivious.”

Harry couldn't help but frown. It seemed all the Malfoys liked to tease or insult him, though the latter was mainly Lucius. "What do you-- we were kissing on the sofa at Grimmauld a year ago and _he left."_ Might as well get it all out there, Harry. If she knows Draco's side, she should know his.

She leaned back in her seat and Harry ate some more of his food just to have something to do. “Draco, ever since he was a boy, has always been incredibly nervous. Even shy, sometimes.” She must have seen something on his face because her smile broadened. “Surprising, is it? He’s gotten incredibly good at hiding, since he’s grown up.”

"He has… almost never seemed shy. Anxious, sure, but I always thought he had a sort of… theatrical personality? I thought he liked being the center of attention."

Narcissa laughed, but it didn’t seem like she was laughing _at_ him. “That just means it was working.”

Harry shook his head softly and blinked a few time, trying to process the new information. "So you think I… you think I made him anxious? Maybe I overwhelmed him..?" Harry _had_ always wondered if he'd done something to make Draco flee as he had that night. After all, he would've absolutely stopped if Draco had been uncomfortable or against the kissing… but he had seemed like he'd wanted it.

“I think that Draco was frightened, yes. Frightened of what could be, and what it could mean. Don’t you often think it’s much safer to remain comfortable, rather than to risk anything?” And honestly, Harry didn't know… because he _had_ risked what they had when he'd kissed Draco, and when he'd left, neither had brought it up that following Monday. They went about their lives as if that otherwise enjoyable evening hadn't happened.

Suddenly, Harry wasn't very hungry. "I don't know. I mean, I guess I understand why he'd be anxious about it, but I made the move. I feel like that was a big risk on my part."

Narcissa leaned forward again, taking Harry’s hand in hers. “Since the day you two met, you have captured Draco’s attentions. I cannot recall a single week going by without him mentioning you in some way, shape, or form. It only makes sense to me, then, that Draco was terrified of the thought of his affections being returned. Do you understand?”

It hit him like a slap in the face. _Yes,_ it did make sense. If suddenly Draco's feelings were returned, quite a lot would change very suddenly. And Draco had more to lose now with Harry than ever-- a good work relationship and friendship were all up in the air… And now he got it. "Yes, ma'am. I understand now."

“Good. Then what are you going to do about it?”

"First, I have to get him back… and when I do, I'm going to make sure he knows exactly how I feel, so he doesn't have to be afraid of us being together."

She smiled, and squeezed his hand. “Good answer. Now, Mimsy, if you’d bring out dinner?”

Harry relaxed as their plates vanished and Mimsy brought out two lovely platters of chicken cordon bleu. He had survived. They each tucked in and after a minute or so, Harry cracked a smile. “You know, a lot of Aurors don’t have as good interrogation skills as you do. I’m quite impressed.”

“Exactly, dear. Why should anyone suspect the matron?”

“I’ve learned to never underestimate the Black family. They can and will surprise you.” He took a sip of his wine, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask about Sirius or Regulus… perhaps over tea, not dinner.

Speaking of surprised, they both turned at the flapping sound of wings to see an owl coming into the dining room. “Wynter, what have you got, there?” The sleek barn owl landed on the armrest of Harry’s chair and Narcissa carefully untied the letter it carried from its leg. Harry smiled and gently pet the owl’s head as Narcissa broke the seal and began to read. It didn’t take long for her face to pale as she looked back up at Harry. “It’s from Draco. He’s in France.”

Harry sat up a bit straighter, brow furrowed and jaw set stubbornly. Draco liked to call it his Auror Face. “What does he say? Is he alright? I sent Porthos with a letter around noon…”

“He says that he’s safe and taking care of himself, and that he needs time away.”

“But how _much_ time away?” How long do I have to go without his voice in my ear and his company? “He doesn’t say where in France, does he?” _He doesn’t want me looking for him, that git._

“No, he doesn’t, and I would advise against going after him. You know how he is, dear. The second you find him, he’ll run farther and faster.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair— messing it up even more than normal. “Have I told you your son is infuriating? No, I won’t go after him. Besides, I’d probably end up lost in the French countryside, and where would we be then?”

“I knew you were more clever than you made it seem.” That… No wonder Draco gave such left handed compliments. It _almost_ felt like another day at the office, with the wit and snark between them. It… gave Harry a great idea.

“Mrs. Malfoy? I was wondering if you’d let me invite you to tea tomorrow, at Grimmauld Place? I sort of can’t go in to work without a partner, and I’ll probably be lonely and bored out of my mind without your son around to antagonize me.”

She seemed surprised at the suggestion before finally smiling. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

“Great. Would 10 be alright?”

“Perfect.”

* * *

It was quite easy to change the wards to allow Narcissa to Floo directly into the first floor parlour. They were both dressed more casually than the night before, though she still wore a floor length dress with long sleeves. Harry greeted her with a smile and actually pressed a kiss to her hand. “Mrs. Malfoy, thanks again for coming. Have you been here before?” He knew that Sirius had grown up here, but guessed that Narcissa had not.

He watched as she tried to hide a smile, and noted that it was the same way that Draco did; poorly, by focusing her attention somewhere else. “I have, yes. My sisters and I often visited during the summers, when we were girls.”

The thought of Bellatrix as a young child threw him for a loop, as did the thought of Andy and Narcissa even younger than her. He led her into the cozy breakfast nook where their tea was set-up. "Do you have any pictures? Of anything from when you were a little girl?" The underlying question is _can you tell me anything about the people I've lost._

Narcissa took a moment to think about it as she sat. “I believe so, yes.” She rose a hand, giving it a wave, and murmuring her spell quietly. A large book fell into her hands. “Perfect, exactly where I left it.”

Harry’s eyes went wide as he took the seat across from her. “Wow— that’s more than just few photos…” It was a proverbial goldmine of information, really. He leaned forward a bit, trying to see.

“Andromeda. She would say the camera loved her, but I think she loved the camera far more.” The photo showed a young girl, perhaps between her 3rd and 4th years of Hogwarts, dark curls pulled back into a low ponytail with a large bow. Her heart-shaped face and dark eyes made the foundation for woman Harry knew as his godson's grandmother, but what made him look for longer was her smile.

“Wow… she’s beautiful.”

“That? Oh no, dear, that’s Bella.” Harry choked a little bit and cleared his throat. _Oh holy shit._ To be fair, he had also mistaken Andy for Bellatrix when they first met, back during the war.

“Oh— wow—“

Narcissa laughed quietly. “I know. Hard to think of her as a young girl?”

“Well, yeah, honestly,” he admitted, looking a bit closer. Ah, now he could tell… It was something about her eyebrows, or maybe how her nose was slimmer.

“We were all young, and foolish. Some of us grew out of it, though.” She turned to the next picture, which showed Andromeda holding the camera, taking a photo in the mirror. She looked to be nearly the same age as Bellatrix was in the previous photo. “Some of us… took a little longer.” The picture was of Andromeda in what looked like a muggle dress. It was… _very_ colorful. It was bright pink with a multitude of swirls, sleeveless, and went to just above her knees. Harry imagined Luna would feel at home in it.

“She looks great. When was this taken? How old?”

“She liked to write the dates on all her pictures.” Narcissa turned the picture around and pointed. “There we are. ‘1967, summer.’”

Harry nodded along and hummed. _1967._ His parents would’ve only been seven years old. That was a very strange thought. Narcissa flipped a few more pages, showing him pictures of her parents, and her sisters, until… the photo was blurry at first, the person in it not staying still like the other subjects were.

They were outside, perhaps in the Black Manor gardens. It looked like summer. A little boy dashed into the frame, holding up a frog to Andromeda, who was behind the camera. His huge grin was missing a tooth or two and his dark hair was an absolute mess. His eyes were alight with mischief and joy, and that’s when it clicked for Harry.

Sirius.

Harry opened his mouth to ask more about the godfather he felt he never truly got to know, when Porthos flapped in with a letter attached to his foot. Maybe Ron or Robards asking Harry where the hell he was…

“Hold on a moment,” he asked Narcissa, getting up and untying the letter from the huge owl’s leg giving him a few treats for his hard work. He recognized the small neat scrawl of his last name on the outside and broke the wax seal. “It’s from Draco!”

_Harry,_

_You don't seem to understand. If I go back, I'll_ have _to register with the Ministry. They'll blacklist me. You really think they'll be perfectly fine with allowing a werewolf to be an Auror? At best I'll be moved to desk duty until they eventually push me to quit. I understand that your friends have been actively working against the werewolf legislation, but we still have quite a long way to go. I'll most likely be sacked, and no job will take me after that. Ex-Death Eater_ and _Werewolf? I may as well sign my own death warrant._

_I appreciate your concern. Please tell my mother I am currently in France. Perhaps the Parisians have kinder laws towards those afflicted. I suppose you'll have to find yourself a new partner. Now, for once in your life, please. Leave me alone and fuck off._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy_

“Well… he’s basically told me to fuck off, and that he’s safe in France. Fantastic.”

“That’s all he’s got to say?” He handed the letter to Narcissa, sitting back down and grumbling as he picked up his coffee, taking a nice long sip. Narcissa looked over the letter, nodding along. “So he has been turned, then… Well, he’s told you he’s in Paris, though I will stand by my word that you shouldn’t go after him.”

“I won’t, I promise. The, ah, the Muggles have a saying. ‘If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it’s yours forever.’ I’m not… I’m not saying I necessarily _love_ him like that yet but… Yeah.”

“That doesn’t mean, of course, not to write a return letter, however.”

“I will. I’m so used to talking with him, even letters. And I want to keep making sure he’s alright. Especially so close to the full moons.”

“I understand, dear. I trust you’ll do what you can to bring him home again.”

Harry nodded and read through the letter again. _I appreciate your concern._ Damn right I’m concerned, you bastard. They were quiet for a moment or two before Harry glanced back down at the picture of Sirius.

“I’ll do my best to bring him home. I’ll write to him later today… Um, could you tell me about Sirius? That _is_ Sirius, right?”

“It is, yes. Sirius was… He was a fire, ever burning, and consuming anyone in his path.” Before Harry had realized it, he’d teared up, watching the photo loop a few times. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, sighing shakily.

“Right, I guess he was…” He took another deep breath and met her steady gaze. “Any pictures of you in Hogwarts robes, then?” And they turned the page.


	6. Chapter 6

_Draco,_

_Like hell I'm leaving you alone! This is as much my fault as anything. I was stupid, and leapt without looking, as per fucking usual. I didn't protect you like I should've and now you've run off to France of all places! I don't bloody want a new partner, I want you back. You're practically the only one that can handle me…_ _If_ _When you come back, we'll talk with Robards, the two of us. I'm certain they'll still want you, we have the best case stats in the department, after all. Or you could become an Unspeakable? And still work closely with me? Fuck, we'll figure it out. Just come back to England._

_I've passed your sentiments on to your mother, like you asked. (She's been round for tea at Grimmauld twice this week already. I think she'd hoped I had you hidden away in one of my spare bedrooms… I could do, you know. Plenty of room, and it's practically half yours anyway…) If she manages to track you down in France, don't be too surprised. I figure she'd walk the ends of the Earth to find you and make sure you're safe and call you a right idiot for running off._ _And so would I. Fuck you're such a prat for running away, Malfoy._

_Have you found a potioneer for your wolfsbane yet? Though I'm sure you could probably brew it yourself, you were always aces at potions at Hogwarts. Or is it too dangerous? I didn't pay enough attention in class… too busy dodging bad guys. Does the gash still hurt? What about your joints? I know Remus used to complain to Sirius about the pain often… I hope it isn't that bad for you… I hate to think of you in pain._

_I found the book my dad and Sirius used to become animagi in his old room just after I sent that first letter. I've started in on it and it seems pretty difficult. Can't believe they did it as third years, no matter how good at Transfiguration they were. Bloody impressive, really._

_I'll let you know how it goes._

_Not giving up on you yet, Malfoy, don't forget that._

_-Harry_

(P.S. I know France probably has excellent chocolate, but this was Remus’ favorite kind… maybe you'll like it too?)

With the letter, Draco had also been sent two bars of Honeydukes Reserve 90% Dark Chocolate. Yes, he’d gotten himself chocolate earlier that day, but… But it hadn’t been chocolate from home. The dark purple and bronze foil Honeydukes packaging brought back quite a few happy Hogwarts memories, and the pureness of the cocoa would better aid his magic and soothe the wolf.

Though Harry’s letter was a bit brash and blunt in places… it was obvious that he cared for Draco and his comfort, as well as his general safety. Draco did have to admit that it was rather sweet, even if he did completely and blatantly ignore Draco’s attempts to get him to leave him alone. Couldn’t he see that it would be better for everyone involved if Draco was left to wallow by himself? Still, that Harry would consider such a difficult level of magic for Draco’s sake… Only in another life, it seemed. 

Oh, but wouldn’t it be something magnificent if he accomplished it? Such a feat of magic. Such a… romantic gesture. He shook his head and internally scolded himself. _None of that, now, we can’t go home. It’s pointless to think of Harry like this._ Especially since now it seemed that… That if anything were to go wrong… He could easily turn Harry with one single bite. He wouldn’t ever wish that on him. Not that he wished it on himself, but… Oh, this all had gone to hell, hadn’t it?

He groaned and put his face in his hands. Things had been going so _well._ He and Harry were close as anything, their case stats were the highest on the force, and he’d been the most put-together of his friends for months. Why was it that when his luck ran out, it was always something drastic? No, no, he needed to rephrase. Why was it that when it concerned him, it was always so drastic? This was worse than that dinner they’d had. Worse by a mile, at least. What was he supposed to say. ‘Ta for thinking of me, but I don’t wanna bite you and give you the same curse’? Hell, he was fucked no matter what he did. As he thought of it, Harry was probably on his way over with a team of Aurors to drag him back. He would be obligated _by law_ to report Draco’s turning and bring him in to be registered. If he was deemed dangerous, they could even brand his registration number into his arm with silver, or even put a tracker on him, like he was a dog.

The thought of Harry dragging him off for that… was agony. Though Granger and her colleagues were working towards drastic reform towards the rights and treatment of creatures, he would most likely be captured and branded before the week was out. Draco shook his head. He needed to get himself out of this room. Maybe go shopping. Shopping might help make him feel better. Maybe get him back to his old self. After all, he hadn't packed very much, he could afford to go on a bit of a spree. He'd need more parchment soon and it would be wise to pick up more ink-- and that wasn't even the most fun bit of shopping.

The last time he had been in Paris, it was just after his trial, where he'd been cleared of his charges due to his age and Harry's statement. He'd been in such a dark place for so long that Paris had seemed like heaven in comparison. His mother had taken him shopping and his favorite set of dress robes had resulted from the trip: gorgeous shades of blue in wool and silk. (He'd had them tailored to fit as he grew a bit more and put on some muscle from Auror work.) 

Ah… and he would need to find an over-the-counter Wolfsbane potion for the upcoming moon, perhaps also scope out a reputable apothecary where he could get his ingredients for his own in the future. Smile widening, Draco nodded to himself, getting himself together. That would do him good. Going shopping, getting his mind off of everything. He just needed a change of scenery.

Maybe he could even find a place to eat, perhaps somewhere with a nice steak tartare. It was a rumor that werewolves tended to prefer raw or bloody meat, and Draco found it to have a bit of truth. He felt like he could eat three of his usual chicken wraps. Hm, maybe it led to an increase in metabolism, causing him to need to eat more to keep up? That may require further testing…

Oh, what a nice little cafe. And a magical one, at that. It was a clear day, and Draco decided that having his lunch outdoors would be a nice treat. The café appeared to be a self-seating place, so Draco chose a table and sat down facing the street. It was a relatively nice day, for it being the end of winter. He decided he rather liked this cafe, and he'd have to visit it more often. Seeing a waiter come near him, Draco smiled and let the French roll off his tongue easily. "Hello, a pleasure."

The waiter seemed to pause, raising an eyebrow and looking him up and down. He seemed to realize himself and blinked rapidly a few times. "Ah, good day. My apologies, you just look _very_ much like my nephew. I thought you were him for a moment!"

Draco's eyes widened a fraction. "Is that so? Who, may I ask, is your nephew?"

"Sebastien Frey? Pardon me— I am October Roots." Definitely a wizarding name, if Draco ever heard one… but not Black. The waiter offered his hand for Draco to shake. Draco shook his hand, nodding his head.

“Draco Malfoy,” he said. Certainly he could be safe, here. The Parisians wouldn’t know his name. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard of your nephew.”

"Ah, but we have heard of you!" October said, brown eyes wide, but not in fear. A grin spread across his face. "Draco— dragon in the stars. Yes, you are an Auror! Your story, it is so captivating."

“O- Oh. Is it?” So they did know him, then… Still, _captivating?_ What on earth was that supposed to mean?

"There were articles written about you, since your war. Your tragic story, your trial— oh we were so pleased when you were acquitted. And then your sparkling Auror career, paired with Harry Potter no less!"

“My tragic— I’m sorry, you were _pleased?_ ” This wasn’t making sense, though it was true, he did have a stellar record with the Aurors, but… This was something else entirely. The waiter was grinning at him, even as he summoned a pitcher of water and a glass for Draco’s table. Watching him carefully, Draco slowly poured himself a glass, taking a sip and whetting his lips.

“Oh yes, my mother was very much keeping up with the war— both of them, really. She’s English, as was my father, rest his soul. She had your trial up on the wireless radio, we all celebrated when you were alright.”

Draco shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why would you care so much?”

“Well, my mother is a Malfoy. Or, well, was. She was disowned long before you or I were born.” He tilted his head a bit and focused on Draco’s face. “Abraxas was my uncle, though I never met him.”

“A… Abraxas?” Draco stared at him, and… Now that he was looking, he could see a few of the Malfoy features. “He’s my grandfather. We lost him to-”

“Dragonpox, when both my children were very young. 1984, I believe?”

“Y… Yes,” he said quietly. He felt himself go a bit pale and October sat down beside him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

“He was my mother’s younger brother, and she thought of him fondly and often.” He gently squeezed Draco’s shoulder.

He nodded again. “I see,” he said faintly. “My apologies. I was unaware he had a sister.” 

“We thought that was the case. Their father was known to be… extreme, in his fits of rage. My mother believes he _Obliviated_ Abraxas, to remove any memory of her, to believe he had been an only child.”

“I- I’m sorry?” What exactly was one meant to say to realizing they had an entire branch of family they never once knew of? Especially when he’d only come to the cafe expecting a meal. This was insane!

“No, no, it is all in the past, I suppose.” He sighed and looked at Draco again. “But what are you doing in Paris? Here on a holiday? You _must_ come to dinner and meet everyone!”

“I- I’m afraid I wouldn’t know where on Earth to go-”

“No worries, I will give you the address—” His pen wrote on its own, scribbling the address on his little notepad, which ripped the page off itself. October snatched the paper out of the air and handed it to Draco, grinning. “Maman will be so pleased, I cannot wait to tell her!”

“Of… course. I’ll be certain to attend.” The older man beamed and stood up again, notepad returning to his hand.

“Wonderful! We will see you at seven! Now, what can I get for you? You came here to eat, after all, non?”

Draco stared at the menu, unable to properly take it in. “I… think I need a moment.” 

“Oh— Of course! I apologize, I’ve overwhelmed you. I will be back, take your time.” There… There were other Malfoys. In France. Alright, then. That was certainly not what he’d been expecting when he went out to lunch… Now he _really_ needed a session of retail therapy.

Draco sighed softly, pulling on a sweater. These nights were still freezing. And they may have thought he had some tragic story, that was all well and good, but they certainly wouldn’t appreciate a Dark Mark at the dinner table. He checked the address again and sighed to himself. He had been completely coerced into having dinner with a stranger and his family… even if he _was_ part of the Malfoy line. And what a strange concept that was, not being the last Malfoy! 

Just before he was ready to leave, his eyes widened as Wynter came flying in the window.

“Wynter, what are you doing here?” Taking the letter from her leg, he stared for a moment. His mother. He had been expecting a letter from her, now.

_Draco darling,_

_I’m going to worry over you, of course. I’m your mother, it’s my job._

_Harry and I have already been visiting with one another. He really is a dear. You know that already, of course. That’s why you love him. He returns your feelings, you know. I know just by the way he talks about you. He’s so very worried over you, you know that, yes?_

_He’s told me what happened. My poor darling. It’ll be okay. I’ll keep mum on the issue until you’re ready to come back and go through all the proper channels. I know you’re scared, but we’re here for you and with you, whenever you decide to return._

_I love you, of course. Please remain safe._

_Your mother,_

_Narcissa Malfoy neé Black_

Oh, his mother… Draco tucked the letter close, sitting it in his breast pocket. She was, of course, far too good for him. Still, he couldn’t force his suffering on her. He would have to mail her after dinner.

He decided to walk, the address October had given not being very far from his hotel. He turned up his collar against the night breeze. Shivering, Draco chided himself for not grabbing a coat. It was still winter, he couldn’t have thought it would be warm enough to go without. He hadn’t been thinking properly, at all. Then again, he supposed he could give himself a break. He’d only been escaping from the law due to a new and dangerous medical condition. He could be a bit scatterbrained due to his situation.

The little lane opened up to a courtyard, a small garden in the center with a fountain that had been turned off for the night. The house he was looking for was directly in the center of the circle, the lights warm and bright in the ground floor windows. As he approached, he could hear overlapping conversations, which didn’t pause as he knocked. The door opened a moment later, and Draco was surprised by all the yellow light and warmth that flooded out of the house and seemed to spill over into his being. 

“Hi there. You must be Draco. I’m Ametrine, come on in. October’s been going on and on about you.” The young woman grinned at him, and gestured for him to enter, which he did. “Gosh, you look like you’re freezing— come to the kitchen, you’ll warm up nice and quick.” Her thick mahogany braid swayed a bit as she walked, leading him towards where the conversation and delicious smells were originating.

As everyone looked towards him, the conversation seemed to pause before everyone seemed to talk at once and his eyes widened as he leaned away. What… exactly _was_ this family? It was very overwhelming— six adults talking to him at once, and two of them holding a child. 

“Enough! Don’t scare the boy off, now!” October boomed, the rest of the family quieting. He grinned at Draco and pulled out the chair beside him, so that he would be at the right of the head of the table, where a matronly woman sat, a baby on her lap and a smile on her face. Oh… was this..?

Draco slowly walked over to sit, giving her a nod. “Ma’am.” She tipped her head back and laughed, though he didn’t feel like she was laughing _at_ him.

“So proper and formal, my goodness. You don’t have to call me that, my darling. Aunty Gwen is just fine.”

“Right. Of- Of course.” ‘Aunty Gwen?’ This couldn’t possibly be a relative of his father, or grandfather. It was always full and proper titles, even when he was very young. Formalities made the Malfoys who they were… didn’t they?

“Very good!” She bounced the baby on her knee a bit and looked him over. “Mmm, you do look very much like my brother did, I can see it clearly. But your eyes, they’re different. From your mother’s side of the family?” She spoke as if they were old friends, just getting caught up, and not an estranged great-aunt and great-nephew.

“I… believe so, yes. My mother, Narcissa Black, daughter of Cygnus and Druella.” Gwendolyn nodded sagely, still smiling at him.

“That’s what I thought. I remember the wedding announcement in the papers.” She paused to take a sip of her wine, and met his gaze again. “I went to school with a number of Blacks, too.”

He nodded, glancing away from her. “I see.”

“Also… I was briefly engaged to Alphard Black before I was disowned and eloped with my late-husband.”

“...Ah. I see.” Well, that would explain it, then. She was more than blasted off the tapestry, she was completely erased from it. Sure, it would’ve been a scandal, but to completely forget your firstborn child… it was extreme. Also, it got Draco to wondering… was this the reason why his mother was arranged to marry his father? To fulfill a broken marriage contract between the Blacks and Malfoys from the generation before? “I’m… sorry. I don’t… I never knew-”

“Oh, my darling, I didn’t expect you to know. Don’t feel bad about it.” She leaned over and gently patted his forearm. “So. I think we need some introductions, hm? Meet your cousins?”

“Oh- Oh, of course, my apologies.” Draco turned towards the rest of them, giving them a weak smile. “Hello.” Merlin, strike him down there. He looked over the rest of the family seated around the table. Two brown-haired cousins about his own age, a man and a woman, he assumed they were siblings. Two women in the kitchen one, tall and pale and the other more curved and tanned, bringing over plates and bowls of food— perhaps his father’s age, maybe older? October, of course, poured Draco a glass of wine and sat beside him. And, of course, the young woman with the nearly-purple braid who’d let him in sat opposite him. Wow. This was his family? Draco finally allowed himself to truly smile, shaking his head slightly. “I’m sorry, it seems you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Don’t be silly, we’ll have you caught up by the end of the night,” October assured him, a slight nudge to his side. “My sister Sapphire and my lovely wife Miranda,” he announced, introducing the two women who came bearing food. Sapphire definitely looked like a Malfoy, she had the platinum blonde hair, though her eyes were a warmer blue, not icy like his father’s. Miranda, he guessed, wasn’t French, her olive skin and curly hair pointing towards Italian heritage.

“My lovely son Derrick and his wonderful wife Ametrine.” Ametrine he’d already met, the woman with the purple braid- And now it was a bright fiery red? She was a metamorphmagus? He slowly turned his eyes to Derrick, who only grinned at him, dark curls falling in front of his eyes.

Draco spoke before he could think, “Has anyone ever mentioned to you that you look incredibly similar to Harry Potter?”

Derrick tipped his head back and laughed, shaking his head so his curls bounced a bit. “Not often, but it has been mentioned. After the Triwizard Tournament, I got a few comments. But, ah, my eyes are different, no glasses. And no scar.”

“Yes, I noticed,” he said quietly. Derrick’s eyes were a dark brown, like his father’s. Definitely not Harry’s jade green. Huh. Looking down to the little girl that was in his wife’s lap, Draco did his best to smile. “And… who’s this?” The little girl was grinning and laughing and already reaching for the plates and spoons. She had dark, straight hair pulled back into pigtails, and lighter skin than her father, though she did have freckles splattered across her face and arms. She was an adorable little thing, really. Derrick chuckled and put the little plastic baby spoon into her hand. “This is our daughter Morrigan, she’s two and a half.”

“Morrigan. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Draco.”

“Drago!”

He chuckled despite himself. “No, no. Draco.”

“Drago!” 

“Looks like you’ve been renamed, sorry about that,” Ametrine said with a grin. She leaned across the table to shake his hand, holding her daughter around her middle as she did so. “Ametrine, wife of the Potter Copy,” she said with a wink. Draco shook her hand with a slight nod.

“ _Speaking of Potter-_ ”

“Dad, calm down. Brigitte.” The blonde down at the other end of the table gave him a little wave. “Youngest cousin, out of all of us. And Grandma Gwen is holding _my_ baby. That’s Felix.” Felix, in question, seemed to give a gurgle, not much caring for any of the adult conversation. He had a few locks of honey blond wisps atop his head, but other than that… Not incredibly remarkable. Then again, what baby was? 

“Now with the introductions done, shall we eat?” Sapphire gave a little nod to Draco, almost sensing how he’d like for the attention not to be on him for a while.

Derrick gave a loud groan, “ _Finally._ I’ve been starving!” That got a chuckle out of everyone, even Draco. Large bowls of seafood pasta, salad, and buttery garlic bread were passed around the table and served family style, not at all what Draco was used to at dinners with his mother. 

Draco smiled at everyone as they all seemed to begin to have their own conversations- “So, Draco!” Oh dear. He’d spoken too soon. October had, once again, turned his sights on Draco. “Tell us some of your Auror tales, I’m sure you have a number of fantastic adventures with Mr. Potter.” 

“Oh… Well- Well, it’s really nothing all that exciting. If you’ve heard one Auror case, you’ve heard them all, really-” He didn’t want to talk about his cases… the last one had gone so terribly and it was too fresh in his mind. “So much of it is paperwork—”

“Oh, but you work with _Harry Potter._ Isn’t he supposed to be the Chosen One? That should be plenty exciting!”

Draco couldn’t help to roll his eyes. “Chosen Git, more like.” That had Derrick chuckling into his wine glass, making eye contact with Draco. “Rushing off into danger, flirting with baristas… not doing all his research. Really, he’s an idiot.” _But he’s my idiot._ “You know, I always have to pick up the slack for him? He _never_ does any of his paperwork on time. He’s probably used to Granger doing it all for him at the last minute.” Of course, they might not know who Granger was, but that wasn’t the point. “He’s terribly unorganized, his half of the office is an absolute wreck. And he’s unprofessional, all the time! Do you know, he goes out of his way to constantly torment me! He calls me these names, _dear_ and _darling,_ even though I’ve told him numerous times to stop, he just won’t! I told him, the next time he did, I’d go straight to Robards.”

The rest of the family was quiet, though grins were spreading across each and every face. (Except Felix, he was very much asleep.) Gwendolyn cleared her throat. “Have you thought of asking to be reassigned partners, if he infuriates and antagonizes you so?”

“Well, I highly doubt it would be granted. Despite it all, we’ve got some of the best numbers in the department. I suppose when you’re the Boy Who Lived Twice, it’s hard to find something you can’t do.”

“I think you like him a lot more than you’re letting on,” Sapphire said, brow arched like she was daring Draco to challenge her. “I think you quite like him, even if he’s terrible with paperwork and all.”

“What- What on _Earth_ are you talking about?”

“It sounds like Gabriel and Devin in school, doesn’t it? My son used to write almost every week, complaining about this boy in school, for about the first three years… We were quite surprised when Devin started coming by and asking where Gabriel was, once he’d left for Beauxbatons. I think he was heartbroken, really.”

Draco stared at her before finally raising his brows back at her. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I appreciate what you’re implying.” In love with Potter? In _love_ with _Potter?_ Who did this woman think she was, telling him this? After only an evening of knowing him? “I harbor no such feelings towards him, and he definitely holds no affections towards me.”

Sapphire held up her hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll admit, I don’t know everything, and I have been wrong before. I apologize for overstepping, Draco. I did not mean to upset you.” Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes as he only turned back towards his food. He didn’t come here to get interrogated and inspected. He came because… because October hadn’t left him a choice. He was being held hostage by hospitality and niceties. The fiends. 

Never mind that his mother had said nearly the same thing. _That’s why you love him._ Yes, well, that might be true, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Potter would never want him now. Harry could never be with a werewolf, no matter what he thought of Lupin. Miranda leaned over. “Oh, Draco… What is that?” Her fingers brushed against the edge of his new scars and he immediately jerked away.

"None of your business," he growled, voice tight with emotion. He didn't have to share his entire bloody tragic life story with them, blood relations or not. "I think I should go--"

“You’ve hardly even touched your plate, stay, eat. Today is a day to celebrate.” He didn't feel much like celebrating, now that both his abysmal love life and his new scars had been brought up. And he'd never much enjoyed dinner parties, though this one was very different from all the others he'd been to. “New family is always a reason to celebrate.”

“Here, I’ll tell you something. How about-”

“Oh, not that story again, Derrick!”

“But it’s the only good one I’ve got!” He whined playfully, grinning at his wife. He made eye contact with Draco and gave him a little nod, like he was acknowledging that Draco was upset. "It's a good story, babe, why don't you let me tell people how we fell in love? Do I _embarrass_ you?" He leaned over, planting a big smooch on her cheek.

Miranda shoved him away. “You’re still just as _disgusting._ ” She turned to Draco with a smile. “I was working at the market. He came over to weigh the bag of strawberries he wanted to buy. He stared at me and dropped the bag, and the strawberries went everywhere. He couldn’t even say anything. ‘Sorry. Uh. Sorry. Wow. Uh.’”

"I was endearing as hell," he said, like it was a known fact. "I picked them up-- most of them, and I paid for my strawberries, my ego only _slightly_ bruised."

“About as bruised as all those strawberries,” she laughed. “It took him a _dozen different shopping trips_ to work up the nerve to give me his number.”

"Aha, but I did get your number, didn't I?" He leaned in again and kissed her cheek. As he did so, little miss Morrigan, who had alfredo sauce around her mouth and on her hands, basically latched herself onto the front of her father's shirt.

Draco made a face at the display and heard laughter- "Not much of a family man, I take it?"

Glancing to Brigitte, Draco shook his head. "No. I've no partner, either." Brigitte shrugged, reaching for her glass. (Draco was almost certain she was just drinking sparkling water.)

"Me neither. And yet," she gestured to Gwen, who was still holding the sleeping Felix. "Voilà. You can join me, Bas, Val, and Gisele in the singles club. We're thinking of getting jackets made."

"I'd rather not, thank you," he said with distaste. Who celebrated not having a partner? 

A few of the older cousins shared a look. Hm, they seemed to pick up that he was single but definitely not happy about it. How very interesting. Brigitte raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, I guess you don’t have to join. It’s a fake club after all. But I’m a single mom barely out of my teens, Valerie is divorced, Gisele doesn’t much care, and Bas is a Disaster Bi.”

“A… what?” Draco narrowed his eyes at her, furrowing his brow is confusion.

“Bisexual? Attracted to both men and women? Well— his own gender and _not_ his own gender, more like.”

He could only shake his head. “Is that some muggle term?”

“Well, yes it is. Do you not talk much with muggles, Draco?” She sounded curious, not like she was condemning him or judging him.

“Well, no, of course not.” Why would he?

The rest of the family all glanced at each other and October cleared his throat. “Well, my boy, you might be in for a bit of a shock. Quite a few of us have married non-magies— er, muggles.”

Draco nodded. “That, I understand, otherwise there’d be no reason for the family history to have been erased.”

“Yes, I’d say about a third of our family doesn’t have magic,” Gwendolyn said, shifting Felix up onto her shoulder. He made a little noise in his sleep and settled. Draco watched the babe for a moment before slowly letting his eyes float up to make contact with Gwendolyn’s. 

“Really..? That many?” Did _all_ of his cousins marry muggles? 

Derrick cleared his throat. “Yeah, I don’t. And neither does Valerie. And four of us married non-magies. But I’ve always thought Ametrine has enough magic for the both of us.”

“I see,” he said softly. “You… don’t have magic?” 

Derrick shook his head. “Not a bit. Well, not anything I can use to conjure something. I’ve got a great immune system, hardly ever get sick. And the weather, I’m comfortable in all sorts of weather.”

“Oh.” An actual squib. The Malfoys had a squib in the family. How could someone, in a world of magic, _survive_ without magic? Didn’t he feel… like an outsider? 

“Like I said, my lovely wife has more than enough magic for the two of us.” And Ametrine’s hair went bright pink as she giggled and smacked his arm. He… didn’t understand these people.

“I’ve… I’ve got a cousin. He’s six, now. He’s a metamorphmagus. Teddy Tonks. His grandmother was a Black.” 

“Ohh, yes. Andromeda. Her daughter Dora was one was well, I remember. I just got a letter from her last week, talking about her little grandson.”

“Ah yes! Little blue-haired boy,” Miranda said, clearing away the plates. “Such sweet photos, ask for more, will you?” Gwendolyn nodded with a smile.

Sapphire took another sip of her wine. “Has she mentioned anything about possible moon sensitivity? He’s growing up quickly, you know.”

“You- You know my Auntie Droma?” How on Earth- They were supposed to be Malfoys! How on Earth did they know Andromeda _Black?_ ”

“Mm, yes she reached out to me a few years ago, I forget why or even how she found me. She mentioned that her sister, your mother, had married my nephew, and I replied that I knew. I consider her a friend, though we’ve never met in person. Nearly, oh… must be almost a decade now. Long before her daughter got married and had little Teddy.”

"How- How did she reach out? _Why?_ " He didn't understand it. How could she have even known they existed? Draco hadn't learned of them until earlier that same day!

"I believe she got my work address, that would've been the easiest for her to find. Charmed Artifacts and Antiquities Department of le Ministère de la magie pour la France," she explained with a smile. "Of course, at the time, I didn't have great-grand-babies, and my husband was still alive. I only do consulting work for them now."

Felix stirred and Brigitte stood, scooping up her son and moving out of the room to put him to bed for the night. October topped off everyone's glasses, switching out red for white, and settled again beside Draco. That sounded incredibly familiar. "You… You mean charmed muggle artifacts?" The same department as Arthur Weasley?

"Sometimes, yes. Though most of the time I worked with magical heirlooms and relics. Like magic mirrors, enchanted weaponry, bonding jewelry, that sort of thing."

“Bonding jewelry? Anything particularly interesting, there?”

"Oh yes, that's mostly what I do now. Complex charms, but very satisfying work. I do love seeing young people in love," she mused, smiling at him. "Are you interested in bonding jewelry, Draco?"

“Me- No, no, I- I have no need for anything such as that,” he quickly told them, shaking his head before sipping on his wine to hide his blush.

"You can still like something and find it interesting even if you don't necessarily have a need for it," Sapphire assured him with a tilt of her head. 

"Oh yes," Gwendolyn agreed. "I've seen so many beautifully crafted pieces through the years, some bonding sets that have been in families since before the Revolution. Absolutely gorgeous. Of course, rings are the most popular now, as my daughter could probably tell you."

Draco turned to look at Sapphire, and she smiled at him, nodding. “Remy and me, we own a shop together. We get plenty of young witches and wizards coming in for bonding jewelry, but just as many parents coming in for watches or earrings. We have a few muggle pieces, but most of ours are magical. You should come by, see what we have. Perhaps we could give your watch a tune-up. Remy always likes showing how it all works, besides."

“Oh. Well… Well, if you insist,” he finally agreed. Window shopping might be fun… especially if both he and the clerk knew that he wasn't engaged or on his way to being bonded. “Do you specialize in any particular gems or metals?”

They spent a good amount of the evening speaking about bonding jewelry, each married person there showing their ring (or other piece) to Draco in turn. Though neither Derrick or his mother had magic, their rings held just a touch of it, from their respective spouses. Sapphire explained that she and Remy both had necklaces, because they each worked with their hands so often. All in all, it was a good night, and they insisted he come to Sunday dinner to meet the _rest_ of the family. “I- I’m sorry, exactly how big is your family?”

Gwen paused and hummed a bit. "Well, let's see. I had three children. They had seven. And I now have five great-grandchildren. Plus a few spouses here and there… more than 20, darling."

“Oh,” he said faintly, feeling himself balk at the thought. Weasleys. He had discovered the French Weasleys. And they were _his_ family. He was… he was a bloody French Weasley, or at least well on his way to becoming one. “Where… will Sunday dinner take place?” 

"We have Sundays at mine, darling. Feel free to dress comfortably, it isn't anything out of the ordinary. Yule, however, now _that's_ a production!" She grinned and pulled him close, giving him four kisses, two on each cheek. "Oh I am so glad you are here, Draco."

Draco still had to decide on that part.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, pals. Life got super busy for the both of us.

Harry was up in Sirius' old room, cleaning and snooping. The place was empty except for him, why shouldn't he poke around? The room was much as he'd seen it during the Horcrux hunt, with the same muggle posters spelled to the walls and tokens of his godfather's life littered about the room. There was just a lot more dust on it now.

He started wiping away the dust from the bookshelves, something that had never caught his attention during the war. Most of them were Hogwarts textbooks, some of them nearly 30 years old. _History of Magic, 48th edition. Hogwarts, a History, printed 1974. Household Charms Vol. 3, Healing Charms for Everyday Injuries Vol. 1, Secrets of the Animagi: a Guide to Achieving the Shift._ Wait, what? Picking up the tome properly, Harry stared at it. There was… He saw notes sticking out of the books. He… He hadn’t noticed that, before. Looking through the book, his eyes widened when he saw all sorts of notes. Notes from Sirius, and Pettigrew, and… And his dad.

Harry recognized Sirius' writing from the letters he'd sent in fourth year, but he was able to guess pretty quickly that James' writing was the darker, slanted font, as if he'd turned the book in order to see better, so he could also write. Before he realized it, he was crying, and the tears were dripping onto the pages, blurring some of the writing. He quickly set the book down, wiping at his face. He… His dad. And Sirius. Back when they were kids.

It had hit him, a few years ago, on his 22nd birthday, when he realized that his parents had never made it to that age, and how young they were when everything happened. They had become parents at 20 years old… Harry definitely couldn't imagine himself getting married when he was 20. It was unreal. In his hands was proof that his father deeply loved his friends and would go to great lengths to make sure they were loved and cared for. 

And that is exactly what he planned to do with Draco. 

Just at that moment, as though he'd summoned him, Porthos flew in with a letter from the very same wizard he'd been thinking of.

Harry,

Thank you for your concern, however I am capable of protecting myself. You don’t always need to be a Savior. I should have seen it coming a mile off, but I didn’t, so now I’m paying for it. And we only have the best case statistics because half the time you’re put on cases that would otherwise be suicide attempts, but alas, nothing is capable of stopping a stubborn Boy Who Lived ten _trillion fucking times._ Could you honestly see me as an Unspeakable? I wouldn’t be able to talk about my work to anyone. Now suggest it again.  
  
Thank you for keeping mother company. You know well by now that the days since the war haven’t been kind to her. I hadn’t thought about what my leaving will do to her, but I dread what my return will entail. This is what’s best, right now. It has to be.  
  
For now, I’ve bought myself an over-the-counter bottle, but soon I will be brewing my own, a practice which in Britain is frowned upon. Yet another reason to stay away.  
  
If you do achieve the transformation, I’d appreciate a picture.  
  
Thank you for the chocolate. It’s fine here, but having it sent from home makes it taste sweeter.  
  
Sincerely and Dearly, __  
  
Draco Malfoy

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. Draco being unable to bitch about the incompetence of various coworkers or even the criminals themselves. He'd miss that gorgeous velvety voice too much. Bad suggestion. Harry smiled at Porthos. "I'm gonna hold off on the reply for a bit, alright? Rest up, eat some food." For now, he had more important things to- Like answering the Floo.

He wandered downstairs to find the bell for his Floo ringing madly. "Request to Floo from Narcissa Black, at Malfoy Manor," the tinny feminine voice announced, when Harry got close enough. "Request granted, Master Potter?"

"Request granted, let her through."

A moment later the Floo flashed bright green and Narcissa was stepping through… With bags. "Harry, dear, wonderful to see you again. Is it too late for tea?"

He blinked a few times, but shook his head. "Not at all, I've just put the kettle on." He opened his mouth once more to ask her about the luggage, but thought better of it. "Why don't you leave all that here, and we'll go to the nook?"

Narcissa smiled. "Just perfect, darling. You just might be able to make it."

Harry is positive he's just passed a test, although he wasn't quite sure what the test was. "Make it where, ma'am?"

“Oh, as Draco’s suitor, of course. You have picked out your courting gift already, haven’t you?”

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock and his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Courting gift? _Suitor?_ "Whoa--" He put up his hands, almost in a 'slow down' gesture. "I don't-- a courting gift-?"

“Well, of course. Harry, you’ve made your intentions perfectly clear, I understand if you two are still trying to keep it quiet-”

"We-- Draco and I haven't talked about anything like this… I haven't asked him, or said anything… I was afraid it might scare him off, and I'd get a letter saying that he's left France and will never come home again."

“I see. Well, all I can say is that you need to treat him gently, right now. He is going through quite a bit,” she said, patting Harry’s hand.

"I don't want to overwhelm him… or make him think it's just because he was turned. Also, I have absolutely no idea about courting. I had no idea people still did that.” Wasn’t that from… the last century?

“Oh, don’t worry, I can help teach you. It’s not so difficult, no worries.” She wove her arm through his and led him into the breakfast nook, where Harry had subconsciously laid out Narcissa’s favorite tea and sweets, chocolate-dipped orange madeleines. Narcissa smiled at him. “Harry, darling, you spoil this old woman.”

“Well, apparently you’re going to be my mother-in-law… so I’m going to try my best. I don’t really have any… any frame of reference so…”

“Hm… Could use a bit of work,” she finally assessed. He blushed and led her to what had become her seat. The teapot poured itself, and the sugar bowl scooted towards her cup. “Thank you, Harry. Have you heard from Draco?”

“I got his next letter just before your Floo call came through.” He half stood up, to take the letter from his back pocket. He handed it to her, across the table. “He’s got an off-the-shelf Wolfsbane potion for his first full.”

Narcissa put a hand to her head, looking as though she were faint. “My dear, darling Draco. Reduced to _over-the-counter_ potions. How is he _surviving?_ ”

“Well, he does say he plans to brew his own. It’ll only be the first time, he uses an over-the-counter potion—“ But he was cut off. Apparently Draco had _never_ taken a potion that wasn’t crafted especially for him, since the moment of his birth, every potion and medicine had been tailored to his needs. No wonder Snape seemed to like Draco so much. He must have known him since we was incredibly small. If Draco had never once had an over-the-counter potion, did that mean he took potions as a baby, too? Did the Wizarding World have anything similar to vaccines? He guessed not, as no Healer had ever brought them up, not even Pomfrey. 

Narcissa paused only briefly after 20 minutes to reread the letter, which only fired her up again. Oh, at least she switched topics. He didn’t think she’d be able to keep going just on the one subject. Now she was talking about how stubborn and pigheaded Draco was and how he had a sort of heroic fantasy of being a martyr. He would’ve laughed to hear that one.

More than half an hour had passed before Narcissa settled, placed the letter on the table, and drained her teacup in one go. Harry immediately went to refill her cup, and she nodded her head in thanks. “I’m sorry, Harry dear, you were saying?”

“Oh— erm, I told you about the Animagus book I found in Sirius’ room? Well, I skimmed a bit and… they made notes in it. My dad— It’s got their notes and ideas and some jokes in the margins.” He played with his hands a bit, situated in his lap. “Never read my dad’s writing before.”

“Oh, darling.” That was a little nice, he guessed. She was rubbing at his arm, apparently trying to comfort him? He didn’t really think he needed comforting, but the thought was nice.

“So I was going to start reading it seriously, making notes of my own. It’s something I want to do for him, when he gets home. He shouldn’t have to spend the full moons alone.”

Her smile warmed the room, it felt like. “That’s a very lovely gesture, Harry.”

“But it’s not a part of my… of my courting Draco, is it? It seems a bit… specific to our situation.”

“No, that is not a part of your courting,” she laughed. “But as I said, it’s very lovely.”

“I need to get a Mandrake leaf to start out, so I was thinking I’d go visit Professor McGonagall tomorrow, maybe get a leaf from Neville.”

She nodded along. “You think you’ll be able to do it?” Harry nodded, cradling his teacup in both hands.

“I definitely have the motivation and the magic. It’s just the focus and finding the animal inside me, I suppose.” He caught her gaze. “Do you think I’ll be able to?”

"I do," she told him, her voice whispersoft. He beamed at her in response, and it seemed to completely light up his face. 

"That's-- thank you. That'll keep me motivated. I was hoping you'd help me with it, where you could."

"Is that so, darling? What do you expect _I_ could help you with?"

"Keeping my focus, mostly. You're quite good at that." Harry took a few small sips of his tea, looking at her over the rim of the cup. "Having focus and accomplishing things."

Narcissa smiled at him. “It’s really quite simple. You’ve mostly just got to decide you’re going to do what you need to without a care towards what anyone else has got to say.”

"Well, I'm learning to not care what anyone has to say." He didn't have many role models to disappoint, and his friends didn't tend to do the whole 'judge you' thing, besides Hermione. Harry, for the most part, knew what he wanted and did what he pleased. "Oh-- And I'll pop by the Ministry this week, fill in the vacation forms so Draco and I aren't blatantly skipping work."

"I'm certain that Draco will appreciate that. Thank you for going to such great lengths for him." She smiled and set her cup down to instead lean over and wrap him up in a hug.

Harry was surprised and stiff for all of a moment before he pretty much melted into the hug. His eyes closed and he just enjoyed her embrace for a little while. "...I'd be doing this even if I wasn't looking to court him, you know."

“Researching to become an animagus?”

"No, trying to help him all I can. He's a good friend and he's saved my life a number of times, he's the best partner I could've asked for. Even if I hadn't fallen in love with him, I'd still be trying to do right by him now."

“Thank you, Harry. Not many would say the same about my darling Draco.”

Harry huffed a bit, because he knew she was right. There were still some idiot people that said Draco was no good, that he couldn't be trusted, even though none of those people had stood up to Voldemort or fought the Death Eaters, or _participated at all_ . Not to mention that Draco had absolutely atoned for his sins with how many cases they'd solved with his quick thinking. Some people just couldn't _let go_ of the wrong things- 

What was- Oh. Oh, that was… That was nice. She was combing his hair back for him. Maybe Harry might have understood a little bit why Draco always ran to his mum whenever anything was wrong- Okay, no. He needed to _focus._

"Just, um. I do have _one_ question, ma'am… why did you bring your luggage to tea?"

“Oh. Well, because when Draco comes back, I’m certain that he’ll come here first. So it’s only a matter of waiting, now.” Oh, when she put it that way, it did make sense.

"I suppose you're moving in then. What will happen to the Manor?"

She finally pulled away, brushing his hair back one more time. “A few of the elves will stay and tend to it.”

It was good that she had a plan, really. And they were already visiting each other pretty much daily anyway, and Grimmauld had more than enough rooms to spare. Plus, she was his future mother-in-law (hopefully) and a Black besides. "Do you already know which room you'd like?"

“I do, thank you, dear. Mimsy, get my things.” The elf from their dinner at the Manor appeared with Narcissa's luggage.

"Which room is Mimsy be putting Mistress' things?"

Narcissa stood. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

* * *

Harry took a deep breath. Easy enough. He just needed to turn in their holiday forms. They both had plenty of time off that was going unused, so much that is was kind of a running joke on the force. He'd filled out a form for each of them, using a spell that duplicated Draco's writing from a test copy. All he needed to do was hand it over to Belinda, and it would all be squared away, and by the time Draco came back, everyone on the squad would be complaining about how long they were away.

The Aurors Internal Affairs office was empty except for Belinda that morning when Harry arrived. He'd done this on purpose. Belinda looked up from her Shifting Sudoku, cat-eye reading glasses perched on her nose and secured with a long beaded chain. "Oh, hello, Harry. What can I do for you this morning?"

“Just going on holiday, Lyn.” He walked over to her, both forms in hand. “Draco wanted me to bring you his, too.”

She gasped and her eyes sparkled with mischief behind her lenses. Her hot pink acrylic nails _click-clicked_ against her desk as she drummed her fingers. "Ooh! Somewhere fun and exotic, I hope, duck. Get that pasty boy out of his robes and onto a beach!"

“Oh- No, no, we’re not on holiday together. He went, and I thought that maybe a break away from work was a good idea-”

"I get it, I get it-- I know you two haven't filled out form 817-C--" _The office romantic relationship form._ "--so we're keeping it hush-hush. No problem, Harry," she assured him with a salacious wink and a grin. "Not a word out of me. But do have a good time, have a fancy little umbrella drink for me, will you?" She collected the forms from Harry and they filed themselves accordingly.

“Belinda, _really,_ you’ve got it all wrong, right now-”

"Oh, Harry Potter, you can't fool me, there's more attraction between you and Draco than gold and Nifflers!" She laughed and waved him off. "Enjoy your vacation, love, Merlin knows you to deserve it. Now, shoo!"

“It’s-” Harry sighed and left. There was no hope of winning that battle. There was no stopping Belinda once she had an idea in her head. She was like some… meddling, well-meaning aunt, Harry supposed.

Well… All that was left was to tell everyone else the news of his new love interest. It was very important to tell the Weasleys about his intentions to court Draco… without telling them that he'd been turned. Well, maybe he could tell Bill, at the very least. And maybe Ron. Unless Ron already knew. But it would be the courting bit he had a problem with, knowing him. And he'd probably take more of an issue with the old Pureblood tradition of courting than him going after Draco. Ron knew how well they worked together, and how they had a solid friendship. 

But Ron knew what it was like to be in love. Hell, nearly two years ago Harry had been Ron's best man when he and Hermione had gotten married. Harry would probably get a couple days of shit from him, ‘the ferret? Really, the ferret? I knew you were bent, but bent for Malfoy is another thing entirely.’ Then Ron would give it up ‘I’ve been rooting for you the whole time. You knew I was messing, right?’ And if Ron had figured out that Draco had been turned during the raid… there might not be much teasing at all.

He popped in for a late breakfast at Hermione and Ron's place, a nice place in Derby, with a bookshelf under the stairs, and no cupboard. He Apparated and let himself in with the spare key they'd given him. "Hello? Ron, Hermione?"

“In the kitchen, Harry!” Ah, how was he not surprised? The two of them spent more time in the kitchen nowadays than any other room in the house, Harry suspected. They were both still in pajamas and bathrobes, tea and the beginnings of a glorious brunch spread out over the table. Hermione sighed, looking to him. “Tell Ronald he’s being ridiculous and that I don’t have to eat if I don’t feel hungry.”

“No, you tell Mione that she’s got to be eating more, cause she’s eating for two, and maybe she’s not hungry, but the baby might be!” Oh jeez. Right in the middle of one of their spats about the pregnancy. Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Jeez, guys, you know I’m not the one to ask about this kind of thing…” He looked between his two friends. “Ron, I don’t think ‘eating for two’ is a thing, coz your baby is still so small. You can’t make her eat if she doesn’t want to. That said… Mione, maybe have a bit of toast and egg..? Are you still feeling sick?”

“Not so much, anymore. Once you get past the first trimester, that passes, for the most part.”

“Oh alright, that’s good.” He had no idea what the fuck a trimester was. Apparently Hermione was out of her first one? He didn’t know. He looked up at Ron and gave him a deprecating smile. “Alright there, mate?”

“I’ve been through war, mate. I went up against Volde-No-Nose a bunch of times. Up against Snape, and went on plenty of raids. I’m Deputy Auror. Nothing got me ready for being married with a kid on the way.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh, especially with Ron brandishing a spatula like it was a wand— bits of scrambled egg flying off the end.

“That bloody terrifying, huh? I keep telling you, you’re going to be fine. You practically raised the rest of the boys in the dorm.” He looked over at Hermione and winked. “Taught us all how to shave with magic in our third year, only one of us who knew how.”

Hermione laughed. “Trust me, Harry. I know the stories.”

“Why are you laughing like that?”

“Oh, should we talk about the time then that you got on Dean because he wasn’t folding his clothes right?” Ron’s ears went bright red as his wife and best friend laughed at him before he chuckled alone.

“Alright, alright, enough out of the both of you. Mate? Eggs?” He looked to have made half the carton of scrambled eggs, a block of cheddar cheese grating itself liberally over the eggs in the pan.

Harry couldn’t help but to laugh as he shook his head at Ron. “You turned into your mum.” Ron put his fists at his waist and scowled at Harry, doing one of the best ‘Cross Molly’ impressions he’d ever seen. Luckily his wife cut in.

“Harry, what brings you by this morning?”

"I can't stop by to see my two best friends in the world?" Right, be cute. 

Hermione peeked at him over the rim of her alarmingly huge hand-thrown mug she’d picked up at the Christmas faire. “Of course you can. All we’re saying is you’ve got that look on your face.”

“Something’s bothering you, mate. Let it out.”

Harry sighed before finally sitting himself down. "It's Draco." He saw the looks they threw at each other, an entire conversation passing in a second, and a small part of him couldn't help but to feel jealous. “I— He’d skin me alive for telling you this, probably, but it’s all related, so…” He swallowed thickly and kept his gaze firmly on the table. “The last raid we had, the one with the Crowlins? One of them was an unregistered werewolf, and we went out on the night of the full… and Draco was turned.”

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly.

"That explains it," Ron sighed. "Robards has been asking me about where you two went. Off the record. He hiding out at home, waiting for it to blow over?"

“No. Dramatic bastard that he is, he’s fled the bloody country,” Harry raged, hands curling into fists. “He’s terrified we’re going to track him down and force him to register and everything he’s worked for will be for nothing.” _And it took all this for me to face my feelings for the git._

"Well, he has right to be so," Hermione huffed. "I don't expect you to have read any of the legislation, Harry, it's _abominable._ By law, you _are_ required to track him down and register him yourself. Thankfully, you and the law seem to have a very funny relationship."

“Like hell I would ever do that to him. And for the record, I’m not telling anyone where he is so another auror team can bring him in.” He caught Ron’s gaze. “Officially, he and I are on holiday. Not together, no matter what Belinda thinks.”

"Keep your pants on, Harry. I wasn't going to ask. The werewolf laws are all a load. I don't think this is the right choice for him to make, but it _is_ his choice."

Harry visible relaxed and sank into his chair, hands coming up to cover his face. _Oh thank fuck._ “Thanks, Ron.” He took a few deep breaths. “Also, his mum’s moved in to Grimmauld.”

They both frowned at him as Ron started to serve them. "What? Why?"

"Is this related to Draco's condition?"

“It is, a bit. She knows he’d come to Grimmauld first, when he eventually comes back, so she wanted to be there too. And I guess… we’re both a bit lonely without him. And I don’t like the thought of her alone in that huge house. Besides, we get on pretty well.”

“Didn’t think you and his mum were so chummy,” Ron said as he slipped into his seat beside Hermione.

“Harry,” she said suddenly, giving him _the eyebrow._ “Why would he come to Grimmauld before going back to his own home, when he comes back?” Harry felt himself flush and squirmed in his seat just a bit. 

“Um, well, there’s something else I’ve got to tell you guys… concerning this whole thing.” He cleared his throat and looked between his two best friends. “...I’m going to court him. If he lets me.”

Ron frowned, just before taking a bite of sausage. “Court him? Like all the old traditions, getting specific gifts and being all stiff and proper court him?”

“Well it won’t be completely stiff and proper, cos it’s me doing it, isn’t it?” His laugh was nervous and a bit reedy. “I want him to know I’m serious, and it isn’t just because he’s been turned.”

"If you're sure this is what you want, Harry, we'll stand with you."

"Even if it's a _really_ bad idea." Ah, Ron. He was so wonderfully predictable. It was a little sad. Honestly, it irked Harry just a little bit.

“Ron, you know Draco and I work very well together. You know he balances me out for a lot of things. I’m pretty sure you haven’t thought he was evil or plotting anything for years… Why is this a bad idea?”

"Cause he's a spoiled little brat that's already got you round his finger. All he needs to do is crook it and you're there."

Hermione gasped and Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Ronald!” She smacked his shoulder and glared at him, while Harry still couldn’t quite find the words.

"What! You know I'm right, that's why you're not denying it!"

“Ronald Weasley, there is no way Draco has Harry under any love potions or compulsion spells—”

"I didn't say none of that! I didn't say it's got to do with magic! Just that Harry's gonna make him an even worse brat!" 

Harry frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “So I can’t dote on the people that I love? I can’t do or buy things that I think will make them happy? Because it will just turn them into brats? What about Teddy, or your baby? I can’t dote on them?”

Ron crossed his arms right back at him. “That’s different. They’re not rich brats.”

“You and Hermione make more than Draco and I do, first of all, and both Teddy and your baby have wealthy family members. It’s about the way you’re raised and the ideals your family surrounds you with. If Lucius had stayed in Azkaban the first time, and not been around to raise Draco, I can guarantee you things would be different.”

“That doesn’t change the fact he’s a brat,” Ron pointed out. He was such a stubborn-

“And I suppose you think he deserved being turned, don’t you?”

“What? Merlin- _No,_ you git! I just don’t think he deserves _you!_ ” Harry closed his eyes and shook his head.

“If he doesn’t, then who does? He’s never treated me like some celebrity or hero or any of that.” It had made dating difficult, the very few times he’d tried, most of them before the war. His track record of partners was nearly laughable, and the handful he’d dated after the war had done it for that reason: because he was Harry bloody Potter, and not just Harry.

“...Not even once?” When Hermione hit Ron, he whined this time. “But I don’t like him!”

“Ronald, you won’t be the one courting him,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. _Honestly._

“But I’m gonna have to deal with Harry talking about him more than he already does, and he’ll probably start bringing him round for dinner with the family-”

“Don’t make him choose between a partner and family, Ron—” She said, but Harry was already standing up. He didn’t come for a fight, and he didn’t want to spend too long thinking about if he’d have to choose between Draco and the Weasleys.

“I’ll see you two later, I have studying to do.” Maybe he’d reread the first couple chapters of _Achieving the Shift_ again. Maybe he’d reply to Draco’s letter.

“Studying?”

“ _Ronald Weasley._ ”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is being uploaded in honor of Dan Rad's birthday today! Yippee!
> 
> So, you folks don't want to see our little family tree we have to devise for this... It's a bit of a doozy, but it was fun to make, I'll say that much! And so you lot are aware, we are NOT adhering to the movie!werewolves, those shitty ass CGI fuckers. Draco is like a real wolf. He big pupper.

Draco woke up on Sunday morning, acutely aware of both the moon and the fact that he would be meeting quite a number of new people that evening. His first shift would be that Wednesday, which made him anxious. He already had his Wolfsbane ready, so now it was just nerves about the transformation. 

All that, and there was an owl at his window, trying to wake him to be let inside. Draco groaned, stretching his limbs out as he fumbled with the latch, allowing the thing inside. “Alright, then, hand it over. It stuck its leg out towards him and hooted softly. With the letter freed, the bird hopped over to where Draco had set out some water and owl treats. That's when he recognized the owl and the handwriting as Blaise's.

Grinning, Draco quickly sat himself down and opened up the letter.

> _Draco,_
> 
> _Potter tells us that you’ve fucked off to France. Thanks for the heads up, yeah? Bring me back some wine, while you’re at it. You skipped out on brunch with me too, you berk._
> 
> _He came round all in a twitter about where you’d gone. Seems you worried him a fair amount. Is this some new tactful ploy you’re attempting? If so, tell me how it goes. I may have to implement something similar myself._
> 
> _These two, I swear. They just don’t get that they’re just supposed to be my fuck toys, you know? I come around, we have a pint, we get to the good stuff, I leave. It’s like they’re wanting me to settle down. Imagine it. Me, all settled down with a happy little family. A load, that’s what that is. That’s just what everyone wants to sell to you as the dream. Not my dream, definitely._
> 
> _Owl me when you’re back in the country, yeah? We’ll do lunch. Maybe I’ll use you as some nice, envious arm candy. That should get ‘em going._
> 
> _Blaise_

As the usual, Blaise's letter had him cackling with glee. That man and his sense of humor. Oh, Draco wouldn't be the one to tell Blaise that he was in love with both Dean and Seamus, he'd get laughed out of his invitation to lunch. But still, anyone with bloody _eyes_ could tell that much for themselves. Blaise was probably just frightened by the thought of ‘being chained down’ and not having the option to fuck off wherever and with whoever he wanted. Draco just hoped those two Gryffindors wouldn't give up and stop waiting for him. They all deserved to be happy, and to be happy together. Even if they were incredibly annoying.

He sat down at his desk and a piece of parchment appeared in front of him. Quill in-hand, he thought for only a moment or two before he began to write.

> _Blaise,_
> 
> _It was an unexpected and practically unplanned trip. Unfortunately it couldn't be postponed, even for our brunch. Wine will, of course, be sent as an apology, you snob. I'm sure the 2000 Chateau Lafite Rothschild will show how truly sorry I am._
> 
> _What can I say? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, apparently. This isn't a ploy for Potter, though, so I cannot fully suggest you use it for your little pair of lions._
> 
> _Yes, how dare they exist as human beings and not living sex toys? It's almost as if they're people too! How long has it been this time, Blaise? What was your last spat about again? I've nearly forgotten. I hope one of you comes to your senses soon and a merry shag is enjoyed by all parties concerned._
> 
> _Settling down and marriage and happy little families are not my area of expertise. Might ask Granger and Weasley on that front. Oh-- and speaking of marriage, check in on Pansy when you get the chance, could you? Honestly, just bed your Gryffindors and fuck what everyone else thinks._
> 
> _You'll be one of the first to know when I return. I might not be up to playing arm candy, but I'll definitely be there to assist in drinking your sorrows. Enjoy the wine darling._
> 
> _Draco_

Letter written, he set it on the table. “Be a pet and take that back to him once you’re rested, yes?” He smoothed down the owl’s feathers as he smiled to himself. The owl nibbled at Draco's fingers a bit and blinked one eye, then the other. Curious little bird, Blaise's owl. He'd have to sort out the wine, perhaps a timed, unmanned portkey? He didn't want it to discolor, and he didn't want to tire out the poor bird. Perhaps, if he focused hard enough, he may be able to Banish it to Blaise’s flat? Well. Nothing for it but to try.

He positioned the wine bottle carefully on his desk, away from his letters and Blaise's bird. Wand in hand, he very carefully pictured Blaise's kitchen in his mind and waved his wand. The bottle disappeared. 

Hundreds of miles away, in Blaise Zabini's posh London bachelor pad, the kitchen goes eerily quiet for a few moments. Then a gorgeous, expensive, and high quality bottle of French red _pops_ into existence on the counter.

* * *

The day passed far too quickly, in Draco’s opinion, and soon enough, he found himself looking over a piece of parchment as he stood on the front step. So this was his great aunt's house. It was rather large, and in good taste, that he was glad to see. Much like a classier, well-kept, French Grimmauld Place. His next letter from Harry had been delivered on the walk over-- Porthos was apparently too dramatic to wait until Draco got home. 

> _Draco,_
> 
> _Okay, maybe the Unspeakable suggestion wasn't my best idea… I love listening to you rant about our cases too much to mention it again. I guess that puts us back to square one on that front. Speaking of work, I've taken a leave of absence. We both know how much vacation time we have saved up, so I'm taking a break… I might have filled out the form for you, as well, so people don't get suspicious as to where you went. (Belinda from internal affairs might be under the impression that we're on holiday together, though… She winked at me when I gave both forms to her, told us to have a nice time.)_ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Your mother is horrified that you had to buy an over-the-counter wolfsbane potion for your first transformation. (Apparently all your childhood potions were personally tailored to you by Snape?) She was all up in arms about it, ranting around the sitting room for a solid 20 minutes. And I used to wonder where you got your flair for the dramatic from, it's so obvious. She spent another 15 minutes cursing your inherited ‘Black streak of fierce independence’ and ‘his refusal to accept free-given help until he's at Death's door', which would've been entertaining if I didn't agree. She says to tell you you're acting ‘far too much like her cousins for his own good’. I can only assume she means Sirius and Regulus… I don't know how you'll react to that._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Needless to say, we're both increasingly anxious about the upcoming full moon and your first transformation. Gods, Draco, I wish I was there with you. It's not about rescuing you, or my saviour complex, it's about seeing you safe. It's about making sure you have healing salve ready, and having hot chocolate ready for you after a bad day or a hard case-- or a painful transformation, in this case… You know more than most just how many people I've lost, and I never want you to be one of them._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _You know how you fuss at me whenever I end up in St. Mungo's; don't even try to deny it, because you totally do and all the healers think it's cute. Why won't you let me fuss over you when you actually need it? It's frustrating. You're frustrating, even if it's in a good way._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Please… Tell us how the transformation goes… I don't know if it will have already happened by the time you get and reply to this letter. Your mother and I are tracking the moon phases, now. We have a calendar up in the breakfast nook._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Please stay safe._ _  
>  _ _  
>  _ _Yours,_ _  
>  _   
>  -Harry

Draco gave the letter one more glance over, tucking it close as he breathed. Just… Sunday dinner with the family he never knew he had. Easy enough. He ascended the steps and knocked on the door, letter carefully tucked away. It only took a moment for the door to open. "Draco, good to see you again. Come in, dear."

He nodded and entered. "Thank you for having me."

"Of course, my darling," she said, pulling him in close and kissing his cheeks-- two on each side, alternating. "I hope you are hungry, we have a feast planned." And she led him into the kitchen.

Smelling all the wonderful food, he sighed quietly. Suddenly, he was _famished._ "I suppose I am a small amount peckish." They rounded the corner and Draco was suddenly faced with a dozen people, all cooking or setting the table or discussing which wines they would have that evening.

"Ah, Draco!" October called, waving to him. "Good to see you again!" A glass of fruity, citrusy white wine floated over to him. "Give this a try, would you? Tell me what you think." He carefully took the glass and, glancing at those watching him, he took a sip. At first, his lips puckered, but at the underlying sweetness, he was forced to take another sip to try to chase that taste. 

 _Merlin,_ did wine always taste like this? There was a lot _more_ to taste, all of a sudden. Even the smell of it was amplified. Citrusy, bittersweet, pear and apple notes came through as if written on the wall in front of him. He could practically taste the barrels the wine had matured in. Realizing October was expecting a response, Draco nodded. “It’s good,” he managed to say. It practically had him drooling.

"Oh excellent! Miranda's family owns and operates a vineyard in Tuscany. This is a lovely _Chianti_ wine from 2002, they're just getting ready to release the first bottles. Come, meet more cousins." Draco nodded, unable to refuse as more unfamiliar faces turned their eyes to him. His mother always raised him for the aristocratic life, but this was a little much.

A blond man with his father's jaw sat beside Sapphire, and Draco guessed this must be Gwendolyn's last son. "My older brother Alistair, and his wife Storm over there with all the plates."

Draco nodded to them. "I've heard much about you. Pleasure to put a face to the names." Alistair smiled at him and stood up, approaching him. He was as tall as Lucius, though not as intimidating. He gently rested his hands on Draco's shoulders and kissed his cheeks-- the same way Gwen had.

"A pleasure to meet you too, nephew." Well, cousin, but still. "Maman has talked about you for years, I am glad you're finally here with us."

For years. What a wonder. "One could argue it's against my will," he couldn't stop himself from muttering. The likeness was shocking, though. He wondered if Alistair even realized. To Draco’s surprise, Alistair laughed, apparently having heard his utterance.

“Just like my son. He puts off Sunday dinners til the last moment. There’s a lot of… interaction, one might say. He’s better off in small groups or pairs. I wonder if you’re the same way.” Right, then. Draco was officially uncomfortable with these people who seemed to know him like the back of their hand after only having met him once. What was with that? There was no possible way he was so easy to read.

A woman with midnight black hair approached them and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Wonderful to meet you, Draco, I’m Storm.” She was English— Merlin alive, another English magical person. She offered her hand, instead of going in for what seemed to be the customary kisses. Draco smiled, taking her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Storm. I do have one question.”

“Ask away.”

“How do you _survive?_ ” Storm tipped her head back and laughed before shaking her head.

“You mean the kissing? Oh, you get used to it, I promise. It startled me, the first hundred times or so, especially when friends of friends would do it when they met you. But it’s… nice. In comparison, English greetings seem a bit… stuffy, don’t they?”

Draco frowned at her. “Pardon?” Stuffy. _Stuffy?_ What did she know, this- This little-

“Pardon me, might I steal him away, for a moment? Gabriel and Devin have just arrived,” October cut in, effectively breaking the tension of the moment and redirecting Draco’s attention. 

Draco allowed himself to be pulled away, now faced with another person, definitely a Malfoy, and someone else that looked to be Irish, if he had to put a guess, especially going by the red hair and freckles. _Circe’s tits._ Draco was suddenly reminded of his embarrassing crush on Bill Weasley in 4th year. _Bloody Merlin, but those two made a handsome couple._ Draco nodded to them. "Draco Malfoy."

Luckily (or unluckily), both men greeted him with a smile and a warm handshake. They were kind, courteous, and a decade older than him, but Draco decided that, for the moment at least, Gabriel and his husband were his favorite cousins. "You… took your husband's name?" They could do that? He wasn't surprised this family didn't disapprove of the fact he had a husband, but the fact he gave up his name…

“Yes I did. We had a good talk about it, too,” Gabriel mused, leaning over to kiss his husband’s freckled cheek. “But in the end, I just did what felt right. Besides, Uncle Alistair took his wife’s family name.”

“...I’m sorry, say again?”

“I’m Gabriel Le Blanc, and when I bonded with Devin, I changed it to Gabriel Torneau. And when Alistair and Storm married, he went from Alistair Roots to Alistair Frey. It’s more common than you think, Draco.” A husband taking his wife’s name? And they considered that sort of thing to be _common?_ What sort of world did these people _live in?_

“For the record, I was fine with him keeping his own last name, but he absolutely insisted. It took quite a bit of _convincing_ on his part.” Devin winked at his husband and two spots of pink blush appeared on Gabriels cheeks. Did— was that a sex joke?

“E- _Excuse me?!_ ” Devin grinned until Gabriel elbowed him in the ribs.

“Come on, you’ve known my cousin for what, 10 minutes, and you’re talking about our sex life?” He shook his head and frowned. “I’m very sorry about him, boundaries have never been his forte.”

“ _Obviously,_ ” Draco said with a sneer. This family was _insane._ He’d obviously made a mistake in coming here. There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Draco realized that Gwendolyn was standing behind him. 

“Draco, I’ve come to rescue you,” she whispered, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “Boys, I’m afraid our Draco has a lot more people to meet, so if you’ll excuse me.” And she was leading him away… away from most all the other people, into another room.

Draco glanced around. “...Ma’am, I don’t understand-”

“Giving you some room to breathe away from everyone, my love.” She stood in front of him and looked him over. She took a small step forward and cupped his face in her hands. “Are you alright?”

He gave a small sigh, nodding his head as best he could. “Yes, I’m fine.” She gently rubbed over his cheekbones with her thumbs, trying to comfort and soothe him.

“You’re on edge, I can tell. Is it only meeting everyone at once, or is it more than that?”

“A little of both, I suppose. They’re… incredibly crass.”

“Ah… that’s Devin for you, I suppose. I’m sure they’re all very different from any family or friends that you have back home, yes?”

He shook his head. “Yes and no. I hardly know them, though-”

“And that’s okay. You’ll adjust to them just as they will adjust to you. Right now, you’re shiny, new, and the most interesting person in the room.” She patted his cheek. “I promise you, time mellows us all.”

“That much I already know to be fact.” He smiled, allowing his hand to cover her left. “You would adore my mother.”

“I’m sure I would. You’ll have to bring her to visit someday. Then you and I can laugh over Devin making the crude jokes and October giving everyone far too much wine.”

His smile widened before it began to drop. “I would like that, however I don’t plan on going home anytime soon… May I tell you something? With the understanding you won’t speak a word to another soul?”

“My love, you could tell me anything, and it will never leave my lips. I would take an Unbreakable Vow. I do not spill my family’s secrets.”

Tears began to come to his eyes unbidden. “I- I didn’t come here on holiday. I ran from home. On our latest Auror raid, it all went wrong, and… And I was bitten.”

She blinked a few times, then drew her wand and cast a _Muffleato_ on the room. Again, she took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. After a few moments, she hummed. “Bitten by... a werewolf, my love?”

“Yes. Full moon is in just a few days.”

“Indeed it is. Your eyes, they have a golden shine to them they did not have a few days ago.” She wiped a few tears from his face using her thumbs. When had he started crying? “This will be your first change?”

He nodded again. “I’ve gotten myself an over-the-counter Wolfsbane for the time being.”

“And where you’re staying, you feel safe?”

“ _No._ I’m staying in the hotel. _La Coupe de Vin._ ”

“Oh my, that won’t do at all. I have plenty of rooms here, you know, please come and stay. We can put up wards around your room, if you’d like—”

“No, no- I don’t want anything to happen, I don’t want anyone to get hurt. It’s safest if I just stay away.”

“Ridiculous- I will not let my grand-nephew spend his first change in some second-rate hotel room. I won’t allow it. You will stay with me, for the rest of your time in Paris, beginning with tonight.” She took a breath and softened. “Draco, not everyone lives with me now. Only my grand-daughter Valerie and her son. I have plenty of room, and you need to be looked after. Let me do this for you.” He took as best a breath he could, trying to ignore the hiccuping tremor to it as he nodded, his own hands now grasping hers.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, bringing him into a hug, though she was a few inches shorter than him. “You’ll be alright. I know you’re scared and worried, but you’re going to be fine.” Her fingers ran through his hair as she held him close. 

“Mum, everyone is- Oh. Are you… Are you two having a moment, here?” October looked between the two of them, his voice softer and more tender than it usually was. 

“I believe we are,” Gwendolyn said, rubbing Draco’s back with her other hand. “Just a bit overwhelmed, October, he’ll be alright.” She pulled away just a bit to look up into his face. “Are you going to be alright for dinner, if we give you a bit of time to compose yourself?” She brushed a bit of hair out of his face.

Draco gave her a nod as he began to scrub at his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Enough of that, you stubborn boy. Gwendolyn or Gwen is just fine, if you don’t feel like calling me ‘Aunt’.” She gave his shoulder another squeeze. “Come sit up by me and Derrick, hm? Some nice friendly faces for company.” And she breezed out to the kitchen, like Draco hadn’t just told her his biggest, most dangerous secret. 

And, coincidentally, he was _starving._

Draco gave himself a few moments, and once he was certain his cheeks were no longer splotchy and his eyes no longer red, he strode back out to the main room- “Sorry, sorry, I know I’m late, Floo networks were all backed… up…”

Everyone in the room went silent, looking at Draco and the young man who’d just entered through the Floo. It was like looking in a mirror. They were of a similar height and build. Their hair was the same color, though the other man wore it slightly longer. They could’ve been identical twins. Draco could only manage to say, “D… Draco Malfoy.”

“...Sebastien Frey…” He made quick eye contact with his parents. “...I didn’t have a twin separated at birth, did I?”

“No, Bas,” Alistair laughed. “Draco’s from mum’s side of the family. Over in England.”

“Right.” They seemed to appraise each other for another minute. Sebastien took off his jacket— my, that was a lot of tattoos. “What’s for dinner, then?”

“Coq du Vin,” Alistair told him. “Come on, come sit.” Bas ended up taking the seat across from Draco, with Gwendolyn at Draco’s left, at the head of the table, and Derrick at Draco’s right. 

“Is everyone else here, yet, I’m starved,” Draco’s inked twin remarked as October handed him a glass of wine. 

“Just about, yes.”

“Is there… more wine?” Miranda chuckled and popped the second bottle of that gorgeous sweet-bitter white wine.

“Of course! October, my love, pass me his glass.”

“Miranda, just give the boy the bottle, I say! There’s plenty of other wines to try tonight.” 

Draco felt his cheeks flush. “No, no, really-” But the bottle was already floating towards him. Damn their hospitality. He was doomed from the start.

Thankfully, it seemed Draco didn’t much have to worry about meeting many other ‘family’ as they seemed to be out of town. Of course, dinner and dessert didn’t let Gwen forget what she’d told him earlier. Cake and dessert wine all consumed, Draco suddenly realized that he wouldn’t be leaving with everyone else that night. He’d return to the hotel in the morning to gather his things and check out… to move into his great-aunt’s spare room. Unable to help it, Draco found himself fidgeting, hearing his father’s voice in his head telling him it was most undignified, but not finding it within himself to care much. This was all a bit much. That, and imagining his father made him think of what he’d do if he ever found out about his rogue, casual army of cousins. Maybe he’d die of a heart attack. Or a stroke. “Draco, dear? Are you alright?”

Draco startled and turned to where Sapphire was addressing him. “Yes. Fine.”

“You were lost in your own head.”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“I know the feeling. I just wanted to remind you about my invitation to come by the store for a tour, if you were still interested? No rush, and Mum has the address, so you can ask her.”

“Yes. I think I’d like that,” he told her with a bob of his head, and a weak smile. She pulled him into a little half-side hug and gave him a light squeeze.

“Wonderful. Come by any time. Maybe Remy and I could take you to lunch.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, relaxing into the touch. It was… nice. Warm. Not shocking like the cheek kisses. He quite liked that. 

“Lovely, lovely.” She gave him a quick kiss at his temple and pulled away. “I hope we’ll see you here next week, as well.”

His smile fell a small amount. “I expect you will.” Sapphire and Remy turned away, bidding everyone else goodbye as they left. Draco felt someone gently tap his shoulder and turned to find Sebastien standing behind him.

“Hi.”

Draco frowned, looking him over. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, I guess not. I just wanted to say hello, now that we don’t have an audience. I guess it wasn’t my best first impression, and I wanted to let you know that… I don’t know. You seem alright.”

“...Is that it?” He wasn’t quite sure if he liked this duplicate, yet, or not. Bas laughed and shook his head just a bit.

“And a piece of advice. If you ever need a bit of space, pretend to go out for a smoke. It’s worked for me since I was 16.” He gave him a wink and a nudge in the arm with his elbow before he walked off. “See you around, cousin,” he called, before disappearing through the Floo the same way he’d arrived. 

Slowly, everyone else left, leaving just Draco and Gwen alone in the house with one another. A few flicks of her wand had the plates stacking themselves and floating towards the sink, which had filled itself with hot water and suds. That taken care of, she turned her attention to Draco. “You had quite a bit of wine tonight, young man. How are you feeling?” He’d practically had two gorgeous bottles of white wine to himself, much to October’s delight.

“Alright. Tipsy, but not overly so.” Which was strange, that he didn’t feel drunk. In most situations, it only took him a few glasses to reach ‘drunk’ but it felt like he’d only just begun to reach that state.

Gwen hummed a bit and collected the empty wine bottles from around the room. “Mm, that’s good. Did you have an alright night, my dear? All things considered?”

“I… Yes. I believe I did,” he finally decided upon after a moment of thought. She seemed pleased by this and nodded.

“That’s good, I’m glad. Now, let’s get you a room, shall we? We’ll get your things from that dreadful hotel in the morning.”

“It’s the best one I knew of in the area.” She just shook her head disapprovingly and led him up the stairs.

“Right— this is Valerie and Tristan’s room, they’ve got a bit of flu, so we’re letting them rest. Any other room is yours for the choosing, my lovely, except the master bedroom. I’m just at the end of the hall, if you need me.”

Draco nodded at her. “Thank you. For everything.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Draco, really,” she assured him, pulling him into a hug similar to the one he received from Sapphire earlier. “Now, off to bed with you.”

Wednesday morning came far too soon, and Draco took his wolfsbane potion when he awoke. He felt it, like he felt someone watching him, or like he felt his own magic. He felt the shift clawing at him. It felt like the wolf was lurking right under the surface of his skin, and it just added to his sense of unease. 

There was a knock at his bedroom door. “Draco, my love?” It was Gwen. “I have breakfast. I wasn’t sure if you’d be up to coming downstairs…”

“Thank you. I’d prefer to take my meals in my room for the day.”

“I understand, darling. I’ll just pop it through, shall I?” A gorgeous tray of food appeared on his desk. Steak, eggs, mushrooms, and a sliced green apple. He could cry, it all smelled so good.

He finally managed, “ _Thank you._ ”

“Of course, my love. I’ll bring you lunch and dinner as well. We’ve got to keep your strength up. Stay safe.” She was so kind… He would love to stay here indefinitely. She so reminded him of his mother. Oh his mother… He knew she would be worried. Certainly both her and Harry knew what tonight was. But he didn’t want to put either of them through this. They would insist on  being at his side, which meant they would have to watch, and… He couldn’t do that to them.

The hours blended into each other, the tenseness and anxiety only broken up by high protein meals. The sun began to set and Draco was on high alert. It was happening and soon. He felt his breath picking up and as the sun fully set, he was forced to the ground with the pressure that seemed to explode out of him. Wolfsbane meant that he didn’t feel _pain,_ but he still felt _every bone shifting and changing._ He felt the hairs pushing up through his skin, and his teeth changing and reforming in his mouth, and he hated every moment of it.

Though it was only a few agonizing moments, it felt like hours to Draco. When the change was finally complete, he was already so tired. So tired, _exhausted,_ and… And he felt like he was in pain. Not a pain from the change, but from something else. It felt like he chest _hurt,_ and before he knew it, he was whining quietly, but for what, even he didn’t know.

Curled up on the floor, sitting in the moonlight that streamed in from the window, there was a longing pain that Draco couldn’t identify. It was like it came from his core, from his very soul. He— and his wolf— were so crushingly lonely that all he could do was whine and sometimes howl, when he had the energy. There was a rattling sound that had him looking up towards the door. What was it? What was going on? The door creaked open and he watched his Auntie Gwen step into the room. “Oh, darling…” She entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Draco was up on his feet— paws?— in an instant and padded over to her, his tail wagging. He approached her, almost whining in question. _What was she doing here?_ “I heard the pain you were in,” she told him, and oh, that felt so nice. Her brushing his fur around his ear back and- Right- Right there. She smiled and started to pet and scratch behind his ears. “There now… not in so much pain, now, are you darling?” Draco set his head on her lap, looking up to her and whining. He still felt that pain. It was less now, it felt a little better, but it wasn’t gone. And he didn’t know how to fix it. That ache inside… what was it? He’d have to think about it more in the morning. Maybe he’d know once he was back in his human form.

Sitting on his bed, Auntie Gwen continued to smooth his fur back. “It’s alright, dear. I’ll stay until the morning, if you’ll have me.” He nuzzled more into her hands and whined softly. The ache inside was still there, but at least he wasn’t alone anymore. He could survive the night like this.


	9. Chapter 9

The letter came in the afternoon of the day after full moon, and Harry was, honestly, a bit terrified to read it. But he had to. Draco couldn’t go through this alone.

> _Harry_
> 
> _I miss you,_ Merlin _do I miss you._
> 
> _It was awful. I don’t want to have to go through it again, I think I’d rather that wolf had just killed me on the spot. They call it a curse for a reason._
> 
> _The Wolfsbane meant it wasn’t painful, but I think I’d prefer the pain. I was aware of every bone in my body changing and shifting, of pieces of fur pushing through my skin, and my teeth shifting and changing in my own mouth_ Merlin _I want to come home. I can’t, this just proves I can’t._
> 
> _I couldn’t even function and I still can’t, it feels like it did something to me. My heart hurt and_ Merlin _do I miss your smell. Is that strange? You’ve always had this certain scent about you that smells like a forest and fire all at the same time and it’s just so incredibly you. I miss it so much. I miss you._
> 
> _If I were to come back I wouldn’t be able to keep my job. My nerves will be shot the closer the moon gets just thinking about it, the day and night of the full moon will be out completely, including the day after. But Merlin do I want to come home._
> 
> _What would my mother think? I could hardly handle the transformation, I don’t want to put that on her, having to witness it. I’m completely trapped. I want to come home._

Tears slid down Harry’s face, and he covered his mouth with the hand not holding the letter. Oh… He couldn’t imagine… His friend and partner was all alone, scared, and in pain— Draco had never sent a letter like this before. The raw emotion in it was almost uncharacteristic. “Harry dear, I- What is it? What’s happened? Is it Draco?” Narcissa was immediately on him, looking ready to snatch the letter from his hands.

He took a few shuddering breaths and wiped his eyes. “I think— it must’ve taken a lot out of him, for him to write this afterwards…” He closed his eyes and offered the letter to her. Narcissa took it and soon had the very same reaction as Harry, slowly sitting herself down.

“Oh… Oh Draco…” She gingerly perched herself on the edge of the Victorian fainting couch, the tips of her fingers barely brushing her lips. “Stubborn thing— you _can_ come home—”

“And everyone says that _I’ve_ got a hero complex,” Harry griped. “He does realize that I’ve seen the shift before, doesn’t he?”

“And when exactly did you see a werewolf shift before? The night he was bitten?”

“What? No- No, in my third year. I watched Lupin transform. He forgot it was the full moon…” Harry waved his hand, not entirely sure how to finish. She stared at him for a few moments, as if not entirely sure what to say.

“Do you… do you still have this memory, Harry? Could I possibly… view it?”

“I… I mean, yeah. Yeah, I just would need to find a Pensieve, somewhere.”

“I’m certain we can find one in this house, with all the secrets my aunt had hidden here.”

Harry nodded. “Right, right…” Looking over the letter again, he sighed. “I still shouldn’t go try to find him, should I?”

“No, I think not… though I’m certainly tempted to let you.” She looked over the letter again and tried to compose herself. “He tends to make the right decisions, he just needs time.”

He sighed. “Yeah. I know.” Draco always had his heart in the right place. His head typically steered him off track. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the emotions from Draco’s letter settle. Finally, Narcissa looked over at him.

“So, dear… I’ve made a few changes to the upstairs bedroom.” Oh, right. Narcissa had put herself in the upstairs.

"Do you need my help with anything? Expanding the closet or moving furniture?" Truth be told, he was fine with her moving in. He figured they were both rather lonely, in their huge empty homes.

“Oh no, dear, Charms are just fine for me, though I could use a slight hand with the pixies.” The… Oh, she picked _that_ room? He groaned and put his face in his hands for a moment.

"Those damn-- and you're sure you want that bedroom?" She nodded and he sighed. "Alright, okay. We'll take care of the pixies."

"It's not the spells I'm having trouble with. I'm an old woman, Harry, I haven't the youthful energy to be wandering around gathering pixies."

"You're many things, ma'am, but an old woman isn't one of them." And even if she was, he wasn't bloody likely to agree with her. "I'll gather them for you, though. I'd like to help."

She laughed, patting his arm as they set up the stairs. "Harry, dear, you flatter me. I'll be turning fifty this year, though."

"And how extraordinary will _that_ party be?" He winked at her. "A week-long ball? Fireworks and masquerades? Something to envy the French royalty?"

That sent her into another bout of laughter. "Harry dear, enough, I may blush! We'll not celebrate a thing until Draco is home safe, you hear me? I won’t age a day until he’s come home!” 

He laughed and shook his head, looping his arm with hers. "You haven't aged since our third year. Besides, Draco would kill me if we had such a spectacular party without him." Besides, Harry desperately needed to see Draco in Baroque era dress, and definitely wouldn't know where to start with planning a party of that size. Narcissa laughed again, and the two entered the room into her bedroom- Oh, she seemed to have a fairly good handle on the pixies, seeing as quite a few were already immobilized.

“I’ve a cage set over there, I just need you to round them up, Harry.” There were definitely more pixies in the room than there were when Lockhart let them out of their cage in second year. This was an infestation. 

And so, Harry went around plucking immobilized pixies out of the air and nudging them into the ever expanding cage. Of course, the moment that she opened the wardrobe, more pixies were flooding out. “ _Really,_ now, this is getting a bit ridiculous. _Immobulus!_ ”

"Shit-!" A handful had reached him and tangled their little hands up in his hair before Narcissa froze them once more, and Harry grumbled to himself as he tried to detangle them. _Little fuckers--_

Narcissa was laughing at him, now. “No, no, I think you should keep them. They make wonderful decorations.”

"Maybe I really _do_ need a haircut," he mused, running his hands through his hair, making sure it was pixie-free. It came down to about his chin, and could be pulled back with pins or an elastic. 

“I won’t hear of it,” she told him, fixing him with a stern look. Okay. Right then. Long hair it was. She was so firm on it, he was a bit surprised. 

It took them the better part of an hour before all the pixies were in the cage and stunned. “Well! Amazing way to keep the day interesting!”

"Life is never boring with a Potter around," Harry said, all cheek. He cast a quick cooling charm on himself and conjuried an elastic to keep his hair out of his face.

“Come here, darling. We can go to the bathroom and I can help you with that.” His hair was… still a wreck. Pixie hands, sweat, and dust didn't make a very attractive hairstyle. He shrugged and let her pull him to the bathroom. “I will give your family one thing,” she said as she pulled a potion or two out of the cabinet. “Determined problem solvers. This potion worked miracles of Draco’s hair when he was younger.” 

Harry paused, looking at her through the mirror. "Ah, what do you mean? What potion?" Potions ran in his family, besides his mum?

“Oh, Sleekeasy’s, dear. Easily the best hair-taming potion on the market, though seeing your hair, I understand why.”

Harry gaped as Narcissa gently ran her hands through his hair. "So my-- someone in my family created it?" Did they create it for their own family use? There was so much he didn't know.

“You didn’t know? Your grandfather. How else did you think the Potters had such a fortune?”

"I- Well, I don't know. I don't know much about any of them… I think my great grandfather was in politics? But that's about all I know-"

Narcissa was frowning at him in the mirror. “You don’t know your family?”

"I'd like to… but they're all dead. That's kind of a problem when trying to get to know people… Besides, my grandparents apparently died before I was born."

“You have a family house, don’t you? The Blacks have the Ancestral home, the Malfoys have the Manor… What have the Potters got?”

Harry paused, unsure of what to say. The cottage his parents had died in wasn't a Potter property, it was Dumbledore's. Come to think of it… he hadn't thought much about _where_ his dad had grown up, or _where_ Sirius had run away to. In his mind, it was less a physical place and more the idea of warmth, love, and safety. "...I don't know. I'm sure they had one… maybe there's still a house, but I don't know where it is."

“Well. I think we ought to find it, don’t you?” She tied his hair after combing the potion through it and smiled at him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Perfect. Now come, dear, “I believe I’ve found the perfect room for Draco, when he comes home.”

“The…” Right. Best not to question it. “Right. Let’s see it.” She led him up to the third floor, and for a moment, Harry thought she would lead him to his own bedroom. She stopped just before Harry’s door, however, and grinned at him.

“I want to add an ensuite that connects your rooms.” And she opened the door.

And it… It was perfect for Draco. There was a four-poster bed with curtains he could draw, a nice plush looking chair next to a dark chestnut desk, a few shelves just waiting to be filled with books, and a wardrobe that Harry was _sure_ had an enlargement charm on the inside. Harry could easily imagine Draco reading in that chair, or answering letters at his desk. He could imagine gently waking him up from that bed. “You… said something about an ensuite?” Grin still fixed on her face, she led him to the other door, which apparently led to their connected bathroom. 

Oh. Oh, he loved it. It had a nice walk-in shower in one corner of the room, toilet on the other side with sink and cabinets nearby, and there, in the middle of the room, was a _gorgeous_ porcelain clawfoot bathtub easily large enough to hold two people. _We could totally shag in the tub, bit of bubblebath, nice warm water—_ Whoa, okay, not the point of the tub.

“I thought a nice bath might help after the moons… to relax, relieve the tension and aches?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think he’d like that, wouldn’t he? Probably wouldn’t be happy until he has a rose and lavender bath drawn for himself…” Fuck, he loved that brat. Narcissa laughed quietly, as if hiding giggles into her hand.

“He does quite like them both, though my son has always been partial to a bit of vanilla bubble bath added to an essential oil soak.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” He couldn’t wait for Draco to come home- Home… Huh. He definitely already thought of Grimmauld as their home, especially with Narcissa here. He just hoped that Draco would agree to stay here… that he’d accept his courting gift… which Harry still had no idea what to present to him. He would… that was it. He would ask someone… clever. The person who would give him the _best_ advice in this situation.

* * *

“Oh, hello Harry,” Luna said, when she answered the door. “Ginny is in Moldova, and she won’t be in for tea. Come in, I’ve got a plum tart in the oven.”

“Oh. That sounds good. No Ginny? When’d she leave?”

“Mmm two weeks ago. The Harpies had a few games, and I believe she is visiting Charlie, because the reserve is so close. Lavender tea?” 

“Yeah. I can go for lavender. How’s… You know. Life?” She smiled her sweet serene smile and conjured the cup he always seemed to use when he was over at their flat. She poured the tea and hummed a bit to herself, wiping her hands on her multicolored apron.

“It’s… you know. It’s quite good, Harry.” She handed him his tea. “And you? How is your life?”

Harry sighed, leaning back in his seat and sipping from his tea. “Not so good. Draco’s left the country.” To Harry’s surprise, Luna didn’t seem very shocked. She just sipped her tea and nodded, almost sage-like.

“France, then?”

“Yeah. France. His mum is assuming Paris, but I’m not sure. We’re not going after him, though.”

“That’s smart. In this case, he wouldn’t want to be followed.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he nodded. “I figured that part out.”

“In other cases, I think you following him would be his goal, Harry,” she added, standing up to get the plum tart from the oven. “It’s just about… knowing what he needs from you.”

Harry thought about it. “I… don’t know what he needs, though. We’ve been sending letters back and forth, and most of his letters amount to ‘fuck off and leave me alone.’”

“Ah. That does sound like Draco… Walls up and on his guard. It’s a good thing you won’t give up on him easily, won’t you?”

“Of course not.” Harry stood and wrapped Luna in a hug. “Thanks. For being you.” She immediately snuggled into his arms, holding him back just as tightly.

“You’re welcome! And thank you for being you, Harry,” she murmured, face buried in his chest.

“...You think I should go after him, though?”

“No.”

“But the last letter he sent, Luna, you could tell he was so sad and scared and hurt—”

“Harry, you _know_ Draco. You know that’s not what he needs. He needs time to sort himself out, after what happened.” Harry frowned, but still rubbed her back. God, he hated it when Luna was right. “Are you going to be staying for lunch?”

“I might as well, that tart looks delicious and—” Wait a damn minute. “You know what happened?”

“I do, yes.” Luna spoke with that same cool, serene tone and fuck if that didn't creep him out. Harry gaped like a fish for a solid two seconds before he spluttered and squeezed her shoulders.

“Luna, how could you _possibly_ know?”

She smiled, rubbing his arm. “I saw it, Harry.” He still didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean. She ‘saw’ it.

“Luna, you definitely weren’t there to see it happen— it was on our last raid, there were no civilians—“

“Oh, Harry. Everything you’ve been through, but you still refuse to open your mind.” Open his… That sounded like something Trelawney would have said.

“Open my..?” He paused, caught on the thought of Trelawney. “ _Oh,_ you _Saw_ it. Wow, alright—”

“Yes. Finally, it’s about time. You’re a little slow on the uptake, you know.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that… but you might’ve said it the nicest.” He sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “So… you know he’s been bitten and turned and ran away.”

“I hadn’t known he ran, but it makes sense, of course.” Harry let her out of the hug and took his seat again, snuggling himself into the squashed teal armchair he’d claimed as his own. He picked up his mug of tea and held it close.

“...it was his first full moon last night.”

Luna’s eyes widened, and for once, she seemed surprised. “Oh. I assume that didn’t go well for him.” He handed over the letter, and let her read. He watched her face, watched her eyes flit as they scanned the parchment. “Oh, poor Draco… It sounds like his wolf misses its mate.”

Hope flared hot and bright in Harry’s chest. _Is it me? Is it me? Please say it’s me—_ “When you say ‘mate’, you don’t mean a friend, do you.”

“No, of course not.” So… So then… 

But what _did_ it mean? All that was coming to mind were thoughts of being Draco’s perfect match, running with him during the moons and caring for him afterwards. A mate was a partner, weren’t they? And that was exactly what Harry wanted to be for Draco. Which meant—

“Merlin’s pants, he wants me back!”

“Oh, you were together?” Harry paused, looking at his friend as she took a long sip of her tea.

“Well no, er, we weren’t. Aren’t? But I feel like we were moving that way. I mean, I kissed him like a year ago, and he ran off, but… things were looking okay for a while.”

Luna nodded as she put her tea cup down. “No wonder Ginny had so much to complain over.” That definitely caught Harry off guard. He hadn’t thought too much about other possible reasons why he and Ginny wouldn’t have worked, because he had a Draco to pine after, and he thought Ginny and Luna were much better together.

“She complains about me? Was I really that bad of a boyfriend?” If word ever got out to Draco, they’d never be together. Draco deserved only the best in romantic partners.

“No, you weren’t bad for a boyfriend. You were bad for Ginny.”

Oh.

Ouch. 

“...right.” Was being friends with her still bad? Should he stop coming around as often as he did? He’d always felt like they’d had a good break up, all things considered, but maybe he was wrong? He put his empty mug down on the coffee table.

“It’s perfectly alright, Harry. You two weren’t right for each other. She told me so. She decided she loved you more as a brother.” A small smile formed, and Harry nodded. That sounded a lot more realistic, a better description of their relationship.

“Thanks, Luna.”

With all he and Luna had ended up talking about, courting traditions hadn't been one of them. There was only one more functional couple he knew of that might have any idea about courting traditions. He just hoped it wasn’t too embarrassing.

He found himself exiting Luna's Floo and entering in through the Burrow's. He wondered if it was just Molly and Arthur in the house. He didn't need anyone else getting nosy. Molly’s voice came from round the corner. “Yes? Who is it?”

“Hi Molly, it’s just me,” he called back, brushing a bit of soot from his tee shirt. Luckily, his hair was still alright. “Are you busy?” 

“Not at all, Harry dear, come in, come in! Oh, it’s been ages since you’ve called around. The house is so _quiet_ these days!” He turned the corner and grinned when he saw her, halfway through someone’s new Christmas sweater. She let the magic needles take over and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Sorry I’ve been gone so long, I’m on an extended holiday from work right now. How are you?”

She sat him down on the couch across from her. “I’m well, dear, but as I said, it’s been very quiet. The kind of life you live, raising seven little ones, you’re not accustomed to the quiet, even if it has been a few years.”

“You’re getting a few new little ones, don’t worry… and most of us aren’t very far.” He felt bad… she was probably as lonely as him and Narcissa. Probably even more so. 

“But you still find excuses not to visit, don’t you? So, come on, out with it, what’s on your mind? Just like Ronald, you are.” He blushed and bit his lip.

“I wanted to ask, um… about when you and Arthur were dating…” He took a breath. “Did he court you?”

She seemed surprised at the question before she smiled and nodded. “Yes, he did. You’re looking to court someone?”

“Yes, I am… I’m not sure where to start…” He looked at her and subconsciously rubbed his inner wrist. “What did he do for you, exactly?”

“Well, the way that the old traditions go, you get them a piece of jewelry. Something symbolic, typically that would remind them of the first day you met. If not jewelry, maybe new robes, or shoes, but it’s something they can wear so that people can see that they’re being courted.”

“But it’s different than bonding jewelry, right? You don’t just get your sweetheart bonding jewelry like ‘ _Hey, want to spend the rest of your life with me?’”_

Molly gave a short little giggle. “No, dear. Bonding jewelry is entirely different. Bonding jewelry, you often put a piece of your own magic into, when you give it to the other person. A courting gift is entirely symbolic.” 

Okay, so no magic in the first gift. Had to be visible, to show people they were in the process of being courted. Hm. “...what did he give you? If I’m allowed to ask?”

“Well, at first he gave me a very nice pair of black shoes, but I didn’t quite realize that was what he was trying to say, so after the shoes, he got me a silver necklace, with a pendant of a black shoe.” Harry tossed his head back and laughed, because that was adorable, and totally something a younger Arthur would do. Completely on-brand.

“I love it! That’s so cute!”

“All my friends thought the same, at the time. I thought he was incredibly sweet.” Molly smiled at Harry. “So? What do you plan to get her?”

Oh. Shit. 

Did he… did he forget to tell her he was bi?

“It’s, um… I’m not planning on courting a girl, Molly… I want to court a man.” Molly’s knitting paused before she was back to it.

“Well, that still doesn’t answer the question.” 

Harry let out a little sigh of relief and shrugged a bit. “I’m not sure yet… He’s got good taste, and I want him to like it, so I’m asking around… for inspiration, I guess.”

Molly thought it over, setting her knitting aside and nodding slowly. “Well… Where did you two meet?”

“Um… Madam Malkin’s, actually. He was getting measured for Hogwarts robes and he just… started the conversation. Didn’t ask who I was or anything.” He smiled at the memory. Gods, they’d both been so tiny back then…

“He sounds lovely, Harry. Well then, most likely, I would get him a pair of robes.” Harry hummed and nodded, thinking back to what Draco was getting fitted for… midnight blue velvet. On an 11 year old. Wow. Rich _prat._

“A pair of robes, huh?” Well… he supposed that did give him an idea. Gods, Draco would look so good in midnight blue, especially up against his pale skin. And Harry would have such a good time helping him _out_ of those robes. “And… what about bonding jewelry? What did Arthur choose for you?”

She smiled and showed him the golden ring on her finger with a gem in it. It looked orange, but it looked like it was _swirling_ with magic. “A ring.” Harry moved closer, peering down at it. Not only did it swirl with magic, but it sparkled.

“Wow,” Harry murmured, nearly breathless. “That’s beautiful. That’s what his magic looks like..?”

“It is, yes. Rings aren’t necessarily _wizarding_ tradition, but I think it’s much simpler than anything else.” He hummed, finally looking away from the ring.

“It seems easiest. And I think… I think I’d like people to know I’m married as well as bonded.” 

She took his hand and squeezed it. “I think that’d be perfect then. But I didn’t know that you were already planning so far ahead. You must be sure he’s going to accept.”

“Oh, no, I’m not at all sure he’d say yes. I’m just… hoping that it goes that far. He doesn’t like to talk about his feelings much. And, heh, you know me, Molly.” He at least had the sense to look sheepish.

“Oh, Harry dear…” Molly leaned forward and ran her fingers through his hair. “It’ll all turn around, don’t you worry, dear.” He gave her a little smile. Gods, he hoped so.

“Thanks, Molly. And, um… did you get Arthur his ring, too?”

Laughing quietly, Molly nodded. “I did, yes. You can typically find any wizarding jewelry store and they’ll do bonding jewelry as well.” Wizarding jewelry stores… did Diagon have any? He hadn’t paid much attention. “I would recommend Celesti Alley. A wonderful shop up there.”

While Harry had heard of Celesti Alley, he hadn’t had much occasion to shop there. It was a bit out of the way, a side street or two off Diagon, and tended to have fancier, more expensive shops. Hermione and Ron had gone to a fancy restaurant there to celebrate their first anniversary, that much Harry remembered. Ah, what had it been called… Sorcery Soiree? Something like that, at least. The shops at least were supposed to have really good quality stuff. Maybe he’d ask around a bit more before popping over there. “Thanks, Molly.”

“Of course, dear. Now, are you staying for tea?”

“Of course I will, Molly. Thank you.”


	10. Chapter 10

> _ Draco _
> 
> _ Both your mother and I cried at reading your last letter. My heart breaks when I think about it… about you and the pain and the fear you must've felt… I'm crying right now, damnit. I kept imagining you… in some shit flat in Paris, or in some lonely French forest, going through a frankly horrifying change for the first time, completely on your own. _
> 
> _ I never want you to go through that again, not alone and afraid like that… Not when I can be with you, ready with a potion or a healing charm when you change back. Hopefully, I'll be able to run beside you as an Animagus soon, at the rate I'm going.  _
> 
> _ Right… I figure now you'd rather hear about things on the ‘home front’ than listen to me ramble and bumble over you coming home.  _
> 
> _ Your mother has officially moved into Grimmauld Place. Neither of us believes it was on purpose, and yet here we are. She's up in the second floor, that room with the cream and rose wallpaper? There had been that Cornish pixie infestation in the boudoir last spring, you remember. No pixies now! She's also decided where you'll be staying, by the way. The room next to mine, on the third floor, is slowly being turned into your room. I won't spoil all the surprises, as your mother is working hard on it, but you have a gorgeous claw-foot tub in your en suite (which I am very jealous of, and will be taking the occasional soak in, thanks). She says it will help your aches and pains, post-moon. I only hope you come back soon to prove us correct. _
> 
> _ I'll admit, I chuckled when you mentioned my smell. (I might've also sniffed my shirt, to see if you were having me on. I just smell like me, I suppose.) I threw this idea back and forth for a bit before I decided ‘fuck it’. Enclosed is the t-shirt I've been wearing to bed for the past week so my ‘forest and fire’ scent is nice and strong for you. I hope it helps… and that you don't think I'm strange for sending it to you. _
> 
> _ As for your job… I know we've been over this a few times but… maybe you wouldn't have to work at all? I don't want to upset you-- it's the last thing on my mind right now-- but do you really need to work? At the end of the day, we're rich men, Draco. I could take care of you, your mother, and Teddy and Andy for the rest of our lives and not spend half my galleons. (Merlin I know that sounds like I'm bragging but I'm trying to make a point. Fuck.) Just don't be too angry with me over this in your next letter, please. I'm trying my best. _
> 
> _ And as for your mother… She wants you home just as much as I do. We're in agreement that we've seen genuine horrors in the war, and that being with you during a transformation will not be as terrible as you've convinced yourself it will be. We want you to feel safe, and I'd bet all the gold in Gringotts that you don't feel safe so far away from us.  _
> 
> _ I miss you every day, you know? I miss your pointy lovely face, and your shiny silky hair, and your stormy mercurial eyes… I miss how your magic reaches out towards mine when we're in the same room. It's such a nice feeling, it really is. I miss the sound of your voice and want to hear it again, even if you're insulting me. I just miss you. Please come home soon.  _
> 
> _ Yours always, _
> 
> _ Harry _

Draco’s eyes widened at the package that came with the letter, this time. He slowly opened it and frowned. It was… fabric. Taking it out, he saw it was one of Harry’s regular muggle shirts he liked to wear under their uniforms. It felt soft, though. Some kind of material he wasn’t familiar with. There were still those two holes at the bottom of the hem that Harry’d poked through, pulling it down using his thumbs. His nose twitched and he stared down at the shirt before bringing it to his face and smelling it. It was  _ heavenly _ .

He could easily pick up the scents of Harry’s soap, shampoo, and deodorant. Pine, woodsy, musky scents— all forest and nature and  _ man.  _ But he could also identify the smell… of Harry’s magic. Warm, smoky, it smelled bright. Draco often thought of Harry’s magic like a phoenix, or the sun, never ending and hot to the touch. It was divine. 

Draco closed his eyes, buried his face in the fabric, and took a deep breath in.

And promptly came in his pants.

Setting the shirt down and trying to get control of himself, he felt his face quickly catch fire. He came in his bloody pants. Like a teenager. God, he was awful. He was  _ depraved.  _ It was only a bloody tee shirt… Harry had sent him a tee shirt, saturated in his smell, because Draco had mentioned that he’d missed it.

_ Oh Merlin, he was fucked. He was so fucked.  _

Groaning, Draco tossed himself back, falling onto his bed. This was fucking ridiculous. And now he needed to change his pants. Because apparently he was a  _ teenager. This is ridiculous, I haven’t ruined my pants like this in a  _ **_decade—_ **

Pants sufficiently changed and clean, he reread Harry’s letter, angry at himself for  _ that incident,  _ yet also for the apparently unguarded and vulnerable letter he sent to Harry. He would need to fix that  _ immediately. _ He couldn’t even remember all of what he sent Harry, just some nonsense about how he longed to return, and missed him, but no. He was doing this for  _ their own good. _ Why couldn’t they see that much for themselves?

He was glad that he hadn’t shifted in the hotel… he would’ve been much worse off, hadn’t even thought about food for the morning of. He was glad Gwendolyn had spent the night with him, painful and frightening as both transformations were. Sighing softly to himself, Draco supposed that he had ought to head down to the table for lunch.

When he got down to the kitchen, he bowed his head. “I wanted to thank you. Again. For… everything.” She approached him, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Darling, it is my pleasure to take care of you. How are you feeling? Should you be out of bed?” She wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug, not wanting to hurt him if his body was still sore.

“Yes, I’m well,” he said with a nod. “I… suppose I’ll just have to acclimate.”

“I suppose so… but don’t be afraid to give yourself time to heal and rest. It takes a lot out of you.” She cupped his face and brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes. “So hard on yourself, Draco… give yourself a break, hm?”

He couldn’t help but to laugh at that, trying to keep the bitterness he felt from the sound. “This is a break.” She went up on her toes and kissed his forehead.

“Non. A break is you sit down and let me feed you chocolate and strawberry crêpes.” She grinned at him and pulled out his chair. “Let me spoil you, just a little.”

“Trust me, I’ve no need for spoiling. This truly is a break. I’m not hunting malicious wizards at the moment, nor am I pushing papers and writing reports.”

“If this is a holiday for you, then indulge just a bit.” She put a hand on her hip and fixed him with a look. “Come along, Mr. Auror, let your auntie give you sweets for breakfast.” A gorgeous tower of crêpes floated over, one at a time, and layered themselves on Draco’s plate. “I have a terrible sweet tooth, myself… are you the same?”

He gave a smile much against his will at the sight of it all. “I… I’ve been told as much, at least.” He took his seat and Gwen spelled a bit of fresh whipped cream to the top of the tower of crêpes.

“Enjoy, my darling,” she said with a grin.

“Well, there you are. I hear about how we have a new baby cousin, and the minute Tristan and I are back up on our feet, you’re hiding away in your room.” Who- Ah, right, Gwen had told him of her granddaughter that was staying with her.

Draco nodded to her, taking her in, as well as the babe she was trying to keep still in his own seat. “Draco Malfoy.” 

“Valerie Frey, it’s nice to meet you.” She sat down across from him, and he was able to look at her a bit closer. Her dark hair curled soft and loose around her shoulders, framing her round face. She had a smattering of dark freckles over her nose and cheeks, and her eyes were like coffee with milk. This was his cousin? She looked more like Hermione Granger’s long lost cousin than his own. But she had a kind look about her, and he liked that. 

“Likewise,” he told her, his gaze slowly travelling back to the breakfast that had been set in front of him. It did look scrumptious… Valerie smirked as Gwen put a steaming mug of tea down on the table.

“Go ahead, I won’t keep you from your breakfast, Draco,” she teased, picking up her mug of honeyed tea and taking a sip. Her toddler squirmed out of her lap and made his way over to Gwendolyn, holding up his little arms, asking to be picked up. Draco watched as she beamed down at the little one.

“Good afternoon, Tristan. Are you going to eat your lunch, today?”

“Lunch, please!” He grabbed two handfuls of Gwen’s skirt and held on tight, looking up at her with a smile and bright eyes.

“Alright, then. You can sit with Gramma if you eat your lunch.” Gwen pulled him up to sit on her lap, and Draco smiled, feeling a warm, pleasantness gently curl in his chest before it quickly turned to a cold dread. Was… Was this… No, it couldn’t be. 

Valerie smiled at him and got up to get herself some food. She started chopping an apple for her son and glanced over her shoulder at her cousin. “So, Draco… any plans for the rest of the week?”

Startling, Draco stared up at her before smiling. “Well… I do mean to visit the vineyard. Miranda, yes? I have a friend that would love a fresh bottle.”

“It’s gorgeous there. Just being out there, the smell of the earth and the grapes under the sun… they make some excellent wine. We usually go in August, but it’s wonderful this time of year, too,” Valerie said, handing off the apple slices to her son and grandmother. Draco watched as Gwen fed him.

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

"I'm sure Uncle October and Aunt Miranda will jump at the chance to show you around. You should come with us in August, though. You can stomp grapes with everyone." Valerie carefully peeled her orange in one long spiral with a short, sharp knife.

"He might not be here in August, Val--"

"Pff-- please, portkeys and planes exist, grandma. He'll be fine."

Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I think I’ll be more than fine watching, ta ever so.” Tristan, between shoving apple slices in his mouth, looked at Draco and began giggling terribly. Draco frowned at him. “And what do you think is so funny?”

“You silly!” Tristan giggled around an apple slice, and Gwen squeezed his sides a bit, trying to get the boy to calm down and eat.

"How, pray tell, am I silly, child?"

Valerie laughed, shaking her head. “Draco, don’t you have kids? When they’re in a good mood, they think everything is funny.”

Draco made a face and shuddered. "Why on Earth would I have children? And how would I?" Once upon a time, he'd thought he'd have to marry Pansy to appease his parents, but he hadn't thought that since 5th year.

“Same way I did. A terrible accident that ended up having a happy outcome.” She gestured over to Tristan. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

He glanced between the toddler munching on his lunch and his cousin standing at the counter. "...whatever your accident was, I hope you're healing well, Valerie."

“Oh, don’t worry, I lost plenty of weight afterwards. I dropped about nine stones of deadbeat weight, after I found out I was pregnant.”

His eyes went wide. Surely this woman wasn't-- wait… He cleared his throat, a light blush on his cheeks. "...you mean to say a deadbeat partner, I assume..?"

At least she seemed to take delight in the mix-up. “I do. Tristan’s dad. He didn’t stick around long after the announcement came.”

"It might not be my place to say this, but you and Tristan are probably much better off without him."

“No, trust me, the rest of the family would definitely agree,” Valerie laughed. “I see your eyes though, eat, before it gets too cold. You’re practically drooling.” 

He blushed and took another few bites of his crêpe tower. Truly, this was more dessert than breakfast or lunch, but he didn't care. It was sent from heaven itself, of that he was certain. And after the night he'd had, he felt maybe this wasn't the worst way to recover.

Later that night, after spending more time with ‘the family’ and exploring their personal library, Draco went back into his bedroom for the night and saw the shirt still lying there on his bed.

He took a few hesitant steps forward before settling in on his bed. He could already catch whiffs of the shirt… He couldn't help himself. In all of a moment, he was naked and the door was locked, wards up to prevent anyone hearing him. He carefully lifted the soft fabric up to his face and breathed in.

_ Gods above.  _

He groaned and held it close to his face, falling sideways onto the bed. It smelled  _ fucking good. _ Like Harry's earthy smell he always had, probably his soap, and the pine shampoo, but something else, something that seemed to stretch straight to his core, it reminded him of the smell of a campfire, burning hot and wild, and if that didn't make Draco  _ lust. _

**_Gods_ ** he wanted Harry so badly. He breathed in again and his left hand gripped his cock-- easily hard from just the first breath. A dozen filthy fantasies warred in his mind. Would Harry take him? Spread him out like a feast over the bed and claim him? Draco ended up turning onto his stomach, his hips rocking into the sheets beneath him, the shirt still tucked close to him, close, he was  _ so close- _

He buried his face in the cloth and gripped his sheets, whimpering ' _ Harry'  _ as he came practically untouched into the linens on his bed. Draco panted, trying to get his breath back. That was all it took, now. Fantastic. That was it.

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ He was so easy for Harry that a tee shirt was the only thing he needed to make him boneless with a satisfying orgasm. Would he even survive Harry fucking him? Would he survive even being near him? If he ever went back home, the second Harry was in the vicinity would he just turn face down arse up for him? That was embarrassing. There was no way he could go back to the Aurors if that was the case… he'd be begging Harry to fuck him over their desks-- and another small bit of cum blurted from his spent cock.

_ Merlin, he was absolutely fucked. _

* * *

 

Draco wasn't quite sure what to do with himself as Gwen came around and picked up his clothes for the wash. So he only sat himself on the bed with his legs crossed underneath him. She hummed to herself, basket perched on her hip. She spied the soft maroon shirt over on the chair and picked it up. Seeing it was a tshirt, she looked over at Draco.

"Well! I didn't know you owned any casual clothes!" She held it up for him to see. "It's a good color on you. Shall I wash this, too?

"Oh- No, no, that's not mine- I'd prefer you not wash it, it's very delicate," he blurted out. If she washed it, it would lose the scent.

She raised an eyebrow at him and looked back at the shirt. Well it didn't look very delicate. "You should wear it more, it's nice and soft. Maybe your cousins will take you shopping for more like it." She put it back over the back of his chair. "You should wear more casual, comfortable things, my love. Maybe in jewel tones. Although, a nice light blue sweater would look lovely, too."

Draco frowned, looking down at himself. "I am comfortable." Dressed in black tailored slacks and a light blue button-down shirt that Blaise had recommended, he was dressed much more casually than he normally was. He owned exactly zero tee shirts… except the one that Harry had sent. He didn't see that there was anything wrong with the way he was dressed. He preferred his higher quality materials to those you could get at any shop. Maybe he could find a way out of it.

“If I put you in a fitted grey waistcoat, you could go work the front counter for Remy and Sapphire,” she said, coming over and fondly combing her hand through his hair. “Go on, let Valerie and Sebastien take you shopping, hm?”

"I-" Draco sighed in defeat. "Yes, Aunt Gwendolyn." She smiled and kissed his cheek

“Such a sweet boy, you. We’ll give Bas a call, see if he’s busy, shall we? Gives me some time with my Tristan,” she mused, heading out of his room. Draco looked down at his lap. Did he really seem so uptight and stuffy? He thought he'd loosened a fair amount in recent years. 

There was an obvious difference between his 16 year old self and his 23 self… but he probably seemed awfully old-fashioned to his French family… who apparently stomped grapes in August and had non-magical partners. Draco had a horrible, dreadful thought just then. Did they even  _ court _ their partners in this family? It seemed as if a few of them had. Remy and Sapphire, definitely, Alistair and Storm as well. Perhaps Derrick and Ametrine, though he had no magic to provide for bonding jewelry. He’d have to ask. Had October courted Miranda? Or had he done that all ‘the muggle way’? Honestly. ‘Dating.’ Ridiculous. He didn’t see what was so troublesome about courting.

And, as it always was with romance, his thoughts strayed to Harry. Merlin, he wouldn’t have a clue about it, would he? Of course he wouldn’t. He was raised among muggles, and taken up by the  _ Weasleys. _ He probably didn’t even know what courting  _ was. _ Oh, hell… But Draco wanted that with him. He would even court  _ Harry,  _ if he had to. Gods knew Malfoys knew how to court. He’d seen the gorgeous (and frankly huge) sapphire necklace his father had given his mother. It was practically the size of a hazelnut and as surrounded by magically mined diamonds. She only wore it on special occasions.

He had to sit there and wonder, if Harry were to court him, what would he get him? Maybe he would get him a necklace. Or perhaps he would think Draco full of himself enough to get him a circlet. Draco laughed to himself. Oh Merlin, he didn’t know of Harry’s taste in jewelry, and didn’t know if Harry could guess his… but in his little fantasy, Harry knew exactly what to get him, and how to present it. He would say all the right words, and it would be a very thin chain of white-gold, because he likely didn’t react to silver well anymore, and there would be a small emerald pendant, and he would clip it around Draco’s neck for him and say-

“Draco Malfoy, I’ve called you eight times! Sebastien is free for the day, he and Valerie are ready to take you out!”

Draco jumped at her voice, his eyes widened. “Oh, I- I didn’t hear you.”

“I thought not,” Gwen huffed, smile on her face as Draco came downstairs. Tristan was already in her arms, and Valerie was putting a bit of lipstick on in the mirror.

He quirked a brow at her. “That’s a… very bright color. I didn’t think you owned makeup.”

“Hey, be nice! I was taking care of a sick toddler, and then caught his fever! I normally don’t look like that, Draco.” She rolled her eyes at him and picked up her purse. “We’re rescuing Bas from work, come on.”

“Alright, fine,” he sighed. He would need to pick up some more his own tone, though, while they were out. He was certain that her makeup wouldn’t match his skin tone. He might be able to steal a lipstick or two, though. 

He followed her out the door and walked beside her, noticing that she kept walking past perfectly fine Apparition points. And they hadn’t taken the Floo network either. “How… are we going to be getting there, exactly?”

She looked over at him and smiled. “Metro. It’s very close to Bas’ work, and saves us lots of walking time.”

“M… etro?” He… He thought he had an idea of what that meant, but… 

“Underground train system? You Brits have one in London, I think you call it “The Tube.” What a silly name.”

Draco thought it over for a moment. “R… Right.”

“Oh, you’ve never been on it? That’s okay, we’ll get you used to it. I’ll get your tickets, okay?”

“Alright.” Why couldn’t they just Apparate? This family was just confusing sometimes. The only reason they couldn’t Apparate would be…

He stopped walking. “We’re going somewhere muggle?”

“Yeah, but Bas does magical tattoos as well. He’s one of the only ones in Paris that does both, you know.” She was obviously very proud of him. “And it’s very close to the Opéra station, so I just use that. Here we are.” Draco hadn’t even realized they’d come to the edge of the wizarding neighborhood.

“Oh.” Right, then. He was on holiday in Paris. New experiences. He followed her down the street, and down the steps under the lovely Art Deco Metropolitan sign. She bought a booklet of 10 tickets for him and handed them over, taking out her own card. 

“Single use tickets, okay? You don’t have to keep them once you’ve gone through.” And she showed him where to put his ticket so the turnstiles would let him through.

He only shook his head. “Muggles are so  _ strange. _ ” And they were! They needed to pay for a piece of paper, with their paper money to be able to board the train? And why was she doing this? Surely Apperition was so much easier… “I don’t understand why we don’t just Apparate,” he finally huffed.

“Oh, didn’t grandma mention? I can’t do that.” She leaned forward a bit and smiled when she saw the train coming. “Perfect timing, as usual.”

“You don’t have your license to Apparate?” She turned to look at him just as the train rushed into the station, moving her halo of bushy hair with the wind from it.

“Silly you, I haven’t got magic like you or Bas do.”

It felt like all of Draco’s thoughts came to a screeching stop. “...Pardon?” Two squibs in the family, and so close to his own age? He felt his chest tighten. “I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

She took hold of his hand and pulled him up into the train. "Hey, it's alright. Just surprised Derrick didn't also mention that I didn't have it, too." She squeezed his hand. "I'm okay, really." The train sped out of the station, and Draco lurched to catch his footing.

“Dear Merlin and gods above have mercy on me,” he found himself muttering as he clutched at the railing. He frowned when Valerie laughed at him, and she just shook her head.

"Plant your feet and move with the train, Draco. And hold on to the bar," she said, still giggling.

“Why can’t we sit?” He certainly didn’t appreciate this.  _ Muggles. _

"We aren't staying on very long. We change lines in a few stops. Besides… it's fun to stand up. When Tristan is with me, I have to sit down or he'll topple over like you did."

“I didn’t topple,” he huffed.

"Only a little bit. And it's okay, it's your first time." The train came to a stop and the doors opened, letting a few people off, and a few people on.

Draco looked back to her. “Do we… get off here?” She shook her head, hair bouncing a bit.

"A few more, I'll tell you when, don't worry. We're getting off at Opéra, remember? Madeleine is the last one before we get off the train."

Surprisingly, it didn’t take them long to get there. Though Draco still didn’t think he liked it that much. Off the train and up the stairs they went, emerging into the early spring sunlight. Only a few streets away, they approached a building painted in royal blues and blacks, with a neon sign reading 'Tatouages et piercings' in the window. Ah, so his cousin worked at a tattoo studio. Interesting. Draco’s nose wrinkled. “I see.” Very interesting. At least now they were going to be going back to the wizarding shopping districts.

"I'll just get him, you can wait outside if you'd like. You don't have to come in, if you're uncomfortable."

“Alright, then.” Though… Maybe it would be a better idea to go in with her. He didn't appreciate some of the looks being thrown his way. He shuffled into the shop after Valerie. The shop itself was… intimidating, but not scary. He definitely noticed the loud metallic buzzing noise before he noticed anything else. There was a man — in his 30s probably — lying on his back on the covered leather table near the back of the room, a woman hunched over and seated on a rolling stool beside him. Black gloves on and device in hand, it appeared she was laying out the outline for a larger piece.

“Hey, Val. Looking for Bas?” The woman only glanced at Valerie for a moment before going back to… whatever it was. Was that how tattoos were applied? What sort of machine was it?

“Hey Elise, is he in the back? Drawing for someone?” Valerie walked towards the back of the shop, and Draco followed her. Naturally, the buzzing got louder as he approached, and he was just a little entranced. “This is our cousin Draco, from England, by the way. Bas and I are taking him out for the day.”

"He's just finishing one up back there, go on ahead. This one was a fainter." Oh… Draco had nearly passed out while taking the Mark… He wasn’t sure why someone would do that to themselves, especially voluntarily and for the art. Valerie tapped his shoulder and broke the trance.

“Come on, let’s go bother my brother.”

Draco started before nodding. "Right." He followed her into the back room and saw his cousin sitting there, applying a tattoo to a surprisingly large man. This one was 'a fainter?' Bas didn’t even glance up, so focused on the man’s arm. Large, Americana stylized roses framed the feet and legs of a classic style sailor pin-up girl, to which Bas was adding the final touches of royal blue to offset the rich red and thick black outlines. Turning to Valerie, he lowered his voice. "Why would someone go through so much pain for something like  _ that? _ "

“Well, sometimes it’s got sentimental value, like you’re getting the piece done for someone or to remember something. Sometimes, it’s for the aesthetic, you like the way it looks, or the overall tattoo style. And sometimes… you just do it for the hell of it.” Draco felt as though he'd never understand these people. He clutched at his arm where the scar of the mark still laid. Getting one for someone? He had a feeling she meant of your own will, for someone special, not like what had been done to him. “I’m sure he can explain it much better than I can. If you’re interested, he’ll talk forever about it.” She nudged him, and they both took a seat to wait for Bas to finish.

"Hang on, snot, just another minute." She stuck her tongue out at him and grinned, crossing her arms over her chest. Finally, he set down the instrument and Draco realized it had been a needle. "Alright, lemme clean up and we'll get going.” Draco watched as Sebastien quickly cleaned up his station and gently cleaned the large man’s new tattoo with a foaming wash, before wrapping it in clear plastic wrap. He finally turned to them with a grin. "So? Let's go shopping."

A cousin on each side of him, they left the shop after Bas’ client had settled up. “Okay, first things first, Val. Start from the bottom, or the top?” Bas arched an eyebrow and fully took in his cousin. “You have good taste, but… this is something you’d wear on a date.”

Draco frowned, looking down at himself. “What?” He was dressed perfectly fine.

“You look like a foreign businessman. I’m kind of afraid you’ll be pickpocketed or mugged,” Val mentioned from his other side. “Hmm. Shoes first?”

“Shoes, definitely,” Bas said with a nod. “You own any trainers, Draco?”

“...Trainers?”

“Sport shoes? Casual, not made of high quality leather, relatively cheap and easy to replace?” Draco shook his head, and Bas nodded, looking over at his sister. “Converse.”

“Definitely,” she said, agreeing with whatever that meant. “Come on, Dray, we’re gonna go shopping for shoes first.”

“My name isn’t Dray.”

“Sure, star dragon,” Bas said with a wink and a pat on the shoulder. The two siblings chatted while they steered Draco in the right directions, and they ended up at a shoe store not like any Draco had ever seen before.

Draco grumbled with his arms crossed as he followed them. “Don’t see why it’s so difficult to just bloody say my name.”

“It’s just a pet name, relax. What size shoe are you?” Bas scooted his foot to rest parallel to Draco’s, for comparison. “Maybe a 44? You’re probably the same as me.”

“I’m a 43.” Bas snapped his fingers and grinned at him. 

“I’ve got quite the eye, huh? How about we start with the classic black on white?” He called over to Valerie, who was deep in the aisles now. “A low-rise pair?”

“What exactly does low-rise mean?” Draco tried to look between the two of them, frowning as he looked around. What sorts of shoes were these? Bas nudged his ankle with his own foot.

“These shoes, star child, just in black.” Draco looked down and hummed. Bas had on a pair of red canvas shoes, black and blue spotted socks disappearing up into his cuffed jeans. Huh… “They don’t cover your ankle, but the high top Converse do.” Valerie appeared with three boxes stacked atop each other.

He had a feeling that this was going to be a very long day.

* * *

It took them at least a half an hour to find shoes he didn’t absolutely loathe on sight. They were the ‘high tops’ that Bas had told him about, but they were a simple jet black, rather than the blue Valerie had tried to convince him into. He.. actually liked the way they looked. They make his ankles look slim, and he had to admit, there was something attractive about the shoes. Bas and Val each gave him a thumbs up when he glanced at them for approval. And just like that, he bought his first pair of muggle shoes.

If only that had been the end of it. Bas and Val had taken him into shop after shop, and some of them they left empty-handed, but others, such as this one… “I look ridiculous.” He stood in front of the mirror, alone in his little dressing room, new Converse on his feet, light blue denim clinging to his long legs, and a dark “Hawaiian shirt” on his upper half. Bas had told him to cuff his jeans, and to keep the two top buttons of his shirt undone. Draco sighed. They were waiting to see how foolish he looked. Stepping out of the dressing room, he raised his arms at his side before tucking his thumbs back into the pockets.

Both of his cousins gasped and grinned at him. “You look great! Those jeans— your legs look so good!” Valerie clapped a little bit and Bas gave him a little wolf whistle. 

“And look at those collar bones. Very nice.”

“I look ridiculous,” he repeated. Bas came over and fiddled with Draco’s shirt a bit, undoing a third button and exposing a bit more of his pale chest.

“I beg to differ. I know plenty of men who would eat you with a spoon, looking like this.”

“I- I beg your  _ pardon- _ ” Draco’s face warmed significantly as he frowned at Bas. Valerie started to cackle as Bas just nodded sagely, though the effect was ruined by the impish grin on his face.

“Mhm, with one of those little gilded dessert spoons, star child.”

“I am not- How  _ dare _ you- Never been so insulted-!” It was all Draco could do to keep from hurling obscenities at him. But Sebastien just patted his shoulders and smiled at him.

“Hey, all jokes aside, you do look really good. How does everything feel?”

Draco looked down at himself again. “These pants are… incredibly textured.” 

“In a bad way, or a good way? Should we find a softer pair for you?” He gave a nod.

“Yes. I think I’d like that.” Bas patted him on the shoulder and headed back out to find him a pair. Valerie handed him the next item of clothing, which was a soft tshirt with grey sleeves and a heathered blue torso. Draco held the fabric in his hands gently. “Oh.” It was very soft fabric, though not quite as soft as Harry’s maroon shirt. It would only get softer with wear and washes.  Valerie forcibly spun him and pushed him back into the changing room.

“Come on! Put it on! I can’t believe you’re actually not so uptight.” Draco just grumbled to himself as he unbuttoned the Hawaiian print shirt. He wasn’t uptight, why did everyone think that he was? He pulled the shirt on over his head and sighed at the feel of the soft material against his skin. Just in time for Bas to come back with the softer pants. He put those on as well, looking in the… mirror…

That couldn’t have been him. He looked like his cousin, or like some muggle, that… That wasn’t Draco Malfoy. But wasn’t that the  _ point?  _ Wasn’t that the entire reason why he’d run from home in the first place? He could escape all the negative connotations that came with his name and upbringing and… reinvent what it meant to be a Malfoy. Especially what it meant for Draco himself to be one. He could take apart the name Draco Malfoy, what it meant back home, and build it here however he saw fit. It was his bloody life, he would do with it what he pleased. 

He ran his hands through his hair and looked in the mirror again. This was him, this  _ could be him.  _ He could choose to relax, and allow himself to make friends and love his newfound family. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  _ He could do this. _ Opening his eyes again, he took another good look at himself. They were right. He  _ had _ looked a bit rigid in his regular clothes, but these… These made him appear softer. More approachable. Maybe they had a point to all of this, after all.

Opening the door with a smirk fixed on his face, he let one arm hand at his side while his other hand was tucked into one of the pockets. “Well?”

Valerie let out a squeal of happiness and Bas— he looked proud. “Perfect.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks ever so to our Beta, Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter! ~Kas
> 
> Hooray, new chapter! It's midterm season for a lot of us, so why not take a short little break and read our new addition? :) -M

> _ Harry, _
> 
> _ Please, disregard my last letter. I wrote that the morning after the full moon. I wasn’t in my right mind. And please —  forget I said anything about your —  _ smell _. I’m not entirely me, right now. _
> 
> _ That is a nice room for mother, though I’m surprised to be frank that she’s put me in a separate room. Not that I would want to impose, or assume, I had just —  Well, it’s most likely for the best. That bath does sound absolutely luxurious. Though I don’t expect I’ll be back soon. Harry — I would hate for my mother to have to watch, month after month. Going through it is awful enough, I can’t imagine what it must look like, what it must  _ sound  _ like. _
> 
> _ And you berk, you know well enough by now that my working isn’t about the money. If it were, I’d be like my father and stick strictly to business and to politics, as that  _ is  _ where the best money is. _
> 
> _ I miss you, too. _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Draco Malfoy _
> 
> _ P.S. You’re not getting this shirt back. Simply for the fact it’s comfortable. Nothing else. _

Ah, though Draco was back to being rather abrasive and cold in his letters… he still kept the shirt. It made Harry smile. He’d taken a gamble, sending his sleep shirt, but it had apparently been worth it. Maybe that was what he needed to be doing. He needed to just keep being sweet and warm to Draco, and he’d be able to chip away at his gruff exterior. He had managed a fair amount already in their years as partners, but it seemed that Draco threw all his walls up again once he left.

He’d be working from prickly square one again, but that was okay. Harry had all the time in the world, and this time he would be easing the way past Draco’s defenses with courting gifts and grand gestures. “Is that Draco’s newest letter?” Just like Molly, she was. It was terrifying, really.

“He’s right back to his usual self, after his last letter,” he said, handing it over to her without a fight.

“I can’t say I’m terribly surprised. He must have written the last one just the morning after.” Harry thought that was the case. This letter seemed… ashamed of being vulnerable, even via letter. Hadn’t Draco trusted him? Well, maybe not so much now, after he was turned? But, well… He had repeated that he missed Harry. He couldn’t have been a completely lost cause. He was just… misguided. That was a pretty good word to describe Draco in general, really. Harry would just have to work a little harder. Nothing he wasn’t already used to. “Harry, I found something while I was at the Manor recently… I thought you might want to see, as well.”

Instantly, he was in Auror mode, ready for an investigation or a fight. Was it a dark artifact? Some sort of ritual that could bring Voldemort back, or give unspeakable powers to another dark witch or wizard—? “Come on,” she told him with a smile. “It’s down in the sitting room. I thought we could look it over together.” 

He followed her, wary as to what it might be, pausing in the doorway as he spied a thick white and silver book on the table. ...Surely this wasn’t a spellbook. Narcissa sat down on the couch in front of the coffee table and glanced to the seat beside her before looking back up at Harry with a raised eyebrow. Right. Apparently he had to sit there with her. He took his seat and bit his lip. She pulled the large book into her lap and moved a bit closer to Harry, so he could easily see.

In Narcissa’s own perfect calligraphy, ‘Draco Lucius Malfoy, June 5th, 1980’ was scrawled across the front of the book. Oh.  _ Oh.  _ She opened the book and the first page had a large picture of what looked like a Draco that had  _ just _ been born… He was so tiny, and it looked like he was wailing. Oh… he looked like an itty bitty house elf, which startled a choked laugh out of Harry. There was another picture of tiny newborn Draco resting on Narcissa’s chest, cradled safely in her arms. Narcissa herself looked… much younger, exhausted, and radiant with happiness. Narcissa cooed softly at the pictures. “He was so small back then… When did that change?”

“Probably around the end of fifth year, when he shot up,” he joked, smiling down at the photo. “He’s… he’s tiny.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced up at Narcissa. “Was it- was it difficult? Having him?”

“That was many years ago. I only remember that I had numbing spells on me, and it lasted around six hours.” Wow, six hours. And then, baby Draco. 

“Wow… And— alright, I’ve always wondered this. Why ‘Draco’? Why not, like, Geminus?”

Narcissa smiled at him. “I liked the name. And Geminus Lucius Malfoy doesn’t roll off the tongue so well.” Harry paused for a moment, before he started chuckling. All that mystery, and his mother just liked the name. “Well, that, and as far as I could trace back, there had never been a ‘Draco Black’.” That made sense, then. She wanted him to be unique. That was… Wow. That was interesting. He’d keep that in mind.

“Was he a good baby? Did he, I don’t know, cry a lot, or was he fussy?”

“He was incredibly fussy. And oh, if you think he’s terrible now, if I ever set him down for more than a moment, he would wail and cry until I picked him up again. He couldn’t stand to be away from me for more than a few seconds.” Harry laughed at that, he could so easily imagine it. Tiny baby Draco throwing a little fit when his mummy didn’t have him close. He just wanted to be loved and cared for, really. She flipped the page and it looked like Draco was just a little older in the picture, Narcissa holding him again. The picture-Draco looked at the camera for a brief moment and gave a smile, open-mouthed and gummy that made his eyes sparkle… 

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. What— what a sweet picture. He cleared his throat as he felt tears well up. He caught Narcissa’s eye and she nodded. “I know… he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly, brushing his finger against the picture. “He really is.” Because Draco was still gorgeous, just different. Harry wondered if he could make those eyes sparkle like that, if he tried. To his surprise, Narcissa wrapped an arm around him with a smile, rubbing his arm while the page turned. Was this…  _ Oh holy shit.  _ Parents did this kind of thing with their adult child’s partner, didn’t they? He’d seen this on television at Hermione and Ron’s a few times. The mother-in-law would always pull out the cute and embarrassing baby pictures to show the new spouse or spouse-to-be—

And this new page showed baby Draco in the bath. "He  _ hated _ bathtime as a child. Would always much rather play than clean up. It was a trial just to get him to take one once a week. Though you wouldn't guess by his hygiene now. And he never wanted anyone to touch his hair, not even mummy." That surprised him. Narcissa referred to herself as ‘mummy’? He could believe the bit about Draco not wanting anyone to touch his hair, though.

Baby Draco was unhappy to be in his foamy bubbly bath water, sweet little face pink from the warm water and the fit he’d thrown before his bath. Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Not even when he was little?”

" _ Especially _ when he was little, dear. He grew to be alright with it." Alright. Which meant he tolerated it. The next picture…  _ Oh. _ A little baby Draco was bare naked, faced away from the camera, apparently not much in the mood but pictures. "He wasn't the lightest baby, either." Harry had to stifle a gasp… because for all his six-foot-three sharpness now, Draco was a chubby baby. He looked like a little Italian Renaissance cherub, just without his wings, especially with the little dimples at his back and the wisps of white-blond hair at his head. Narcissa sighed. "That's the best time, Harry dear. When they're small and young enough you can hold them in one arm and keep them close. Then, before you know it, he's all grown and he doesn't need you anymore."

Sensing the sudden change in mood, Harry wrapped his arm around her and pulled Narcissa in closer, so she could rest against him. “...he’s never not going to need you, you know. He talks about you all the time, and it’s always with the sweetest tone I’ve ever heard him use.” He rested his right hand on top of her left. “He loves you so much, you’re the one he loves most. Please don’t doubt that.”

"Oh, Harry, you are so good. If I were to pass, Draco would be able to live on. He's grown, now. He doesn't need me the same way he used to."

“Maybe he doesn’t… but he’d miss you every day, and he’d be heartbroken for a long time. Just because we’re grown up doesn’t mean we don’t need someone to love us.” Now it was Narcissa pulling him close and… And did she just…?

She spoke against his hair, Harry acutely aware of the brush of her lips against the top of his head and the warmth she seemed to radiate. "What did he do to deserve you?" That finally choked Harry up, and he took off his glasses to cover his face with his hand.  "No matter what happens between the two of you, there will always be a place for you at the Manor." Harry finally broke down and pulled Narcissa into a full hug before hiding his face in her neck, trying not to let his tears drip onto her dress. She held him there, only quietly hushing him, and saying “I know, I know.”

He quieted after a while and wiped his tears, sniffling a bit. “...I’m sorry I got tears all over your dress,” he murmured, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. “Thank you for… all that.”

“Dresses can be washed, Harry. Now come here, this is only the first album.”

* * *

Looking through the various books he'd found and bought, Harry stuck his tongue out. If he was right, it didn't actually take  _ that _ much to be an animagus. But he could be terribly, horribly wrong. 

It seemed like a relatively simple process. Every book, journal, or leaflet always started the same way: a Mandrake leaf, kept in one's mouth, for a full month. There were some differences, of course. Some argued that the leaf must be kept under the tongue, while others said just in one's mouth is fine. Others debated on the time frame-- how long? Did the moon cycle have anything to do with it? 28 days or 31? And what age of Mandrake needed to provide the leaf? 

After a while, it felt like N.E.W.T. studying with Hermione, and he needed to take a break. Harry sat back in his chair and groaned loudly, the simple action already making him feel better. Did he know anyone that was an animagus? Certainly they would be able to help him figure this all… Of course! He was so stupid! 

He got up and stretched, groaning as his back and shoulder popped. He threw a bit of Floo powder onto the small fire in his study. "Hogwarts, headmistress' office."

Harry was grateful when the Floo let him through and he stepped out, right in front of McGonagall. "Mr. Potter. What an unexpected surprise."

He beamed at her and nodded his head. "Yes, ah, sorry about the surprise. I know it's been a while, but the Aurors… it was quite busy." He felt a bit bad. Since his unexpected leave from work, he was quickly realizing how he had inadvertently neglected his other relationships. "Do you have time to talk, Headmistress?"

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. What do you need?"

"The context is kind of a long story…" The two of them sat down, and Harry proceeded to tell her what had happened in the last month, give or take a few days.

"I see," she said primly at the end of it all. "And are you, then, asking for training to achieve an animagus form?"

"Yes, ma'am. I've got a lot of books at home-- um, the one my dad and Sirius used, too-- and so many of them have different theories. I know you start with the Mandrake leaf, but even  _ that's  _ fought over." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I was hoping you could coach me, if you have the time."

She nodded, and seemed to think about it for a long time, staring at him. Harry started feeling unnerved until she finally nodded again, "This, of course, with the understanding that you  _ will _ be officially registering with the Ministry once you achieve your form."

A dark blush crept over his face and neck and he nodded, thinking of his father and godfather's blatant disregard for the Ministry rules. "Yes, ma'am. To be fair, I'm also not doing this at 14." That would've been impossible, with everything going on at the time.

"Be that as it may. I will hold you to your word. Weekends at noon, I will give you a private hour." That was more than he was expecting she'd give him, what with her schedule and responsibilities, but he was delighted. 

"Thank you so much, prof- Headmistress-- I can't thank you enough--"

"On one condition," she interrupted with the ghost of a smirk. Harry stilled and raised an eyebrow. Oh this came with fine print?

"Erm, and what might that be..?"

"You consider a career at Hogwarts. I'd like you to extend the invitation to Mr. Malfoy, as well. Even if you decline, I am open to suggestions for several positions."

Harry almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You-- Wait, you want us to teach here? Both of us?"  _ Teaching at Hogwarts… following in Remus' footsteps… being back in the first place that had ever felt like home… _

"I think it would be good for you and Mr. Malfoy, as well as the student body. The Gryffindor-Slytherin relations are still nonexistent." Ah, now it was all making sense.

"...so having Heads of House that are on good terms would promote better attitudes and relationships?" Damn. He had to hand it to her, she'd thought things through. 

She smiled at him now. “Yes. Of course, I wouldn’t force you into such a position. I know your Auror careers are important to the two of you.” Well… They  _ had _ been, at least.

He played with his hands in his lap for a moment. "...I'm not sure if they'll allow Draco back… and I don't want anyone else watching my back on missions… so I'm pretty sure our Auror careers are done. We're using up all our rolled-over vacation days now."

“My offer stands, Mr. Malfoy’s current condition aside.” So even if he said no, even if he washed his hands of the idea of teaching… She was still going to teach him. He bit his lip.

"I'll think about it… and I'll let him know, too. If he says yes, you have both of us."

“Very good. Will that be all, Harry?”

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," he said, standing back up and smiling at her. "I can't wait to get started."

“Call me Minerva.”

* * *

 

Thinking he could maybe get started on his training early, Harry made his way through the castle, down towards the greenhouses. He hoped to find Professor Sprout to beg a Mandrake leaf off of her. What he found had him thinking he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because it was  _ Neville _ in the greenhouses, and what the hell was Neville doing there?

"Neville?" He closed the door behind him and took a few steps towards his friend.

Neville looked up from where it looked like he was replanting some devil’s snare. “Harry, what’re you doing here?”

"I came to talk to McGonagall about something, and I needed to talk to Sprout next… is she here?"

He watched Neville’s eyebrows hitch up. “She, uh… She left. End of last year.” 

"Oh, right, okay. Then who's--" And he paused as it dawned on him. " _ You're  _ the Herbology professor? Neville, that's excellent! Congratulations!"

“Yep. It was… official. In September.” Harry grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. It was April, now.  _ Nice one, Potter.  _ Fuck, he'd known about it, too… he'd just forgotten. 

"Fuck-- I'm sorry, I knew that, I just… I'm sorry, Nev."

“Yeah. We all got busy. I know. What about you, with Auror business?” Right, could not really talk about that, could he?

"I'm actually on holiday. Taking a bit of a break. Our last raid, ah, was not good."

“Ah, jeez. ‘M sorry about that. What about Malfoy? Last I heard, you were attached at the hip.”

"He's, ah, taking his holiday in France. He needs a bit more rest and relaxation than I do. He's the one that was injured." He rubbed the back of his neck again. "When he gets back, I plan on courting him, though."

That had Neville’s eyes widening. “Oh. Oh, jeez, I knew you two… I- Alright, then.” Harry grinned sheepishly and tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Yeah um, it's been a bit of a long time coming, hasn't it?" He shrugged a bit. "Anyways, Neville… can I ask you for a favor?"

“Yeah, sure mate, what do you need? I mean- I can be your best man if you want, I just thought you’d get Ron-”

"What? Whoa, wait-- I haven't even courted him yet, Neville! This isn't about a bonding--" Well, okay, it  _ sort of  _ was? "It's Herbology-related, Nev."

“Oh. Alright, what is it?”

"I'm attempting to complete an Animagus transformation, and I know you need a Mandrake leaf for that… can you help?"

Neville looked Harry over, and for a long, terrifying moment, he thought he was going to say no- “Come on, Mandrakes are in greenhouse six.” Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and followed Neville down towards the correct greenhouse.

"Do you-- what type would be best?  _ Are  _ there different types? Or is it just ages of the plant itself?" He was rambling like he never had about plants.

“Well, probably an adult leaf.” Neville led him towards a few pots at the back. “Hey there. How we doing today?” 

Oh, he was talking to the Mandrakes. Harry had only seen them as babies in second year, and boy could they scream then. Could… could Mandrakes talk once they reached adulthood? Maybe he should've paid more attention… It definitely didn’t seem like they could talk. “Georgina, I’m gonna just prune one little leaf, alright? Alfred, don’t worry, I’m not planning on moving either of the two of you, just one little leaf.”

Neville lovingly held the leaf before clipping it with a sharp, clean pair of shears. Harry jumped as the Mandrake-- Georgina-- shuddered and let out a short shriek. “No, shh, shh,” Neville immediately hushed. “It’s alright, it’s okay, see? All done.” He held up the leaf for her to see. “That’s it.” She settled, and the plant beside her-- Alfred-- seemed to lean over to comfort her. She seemed to look at the leaf, and then Neville, and nod just a bit.

Harry was  _ amazed.  _ No wonder Neville found the plants down here so interesting. Neville sighed, handing the leaf off to Harry. “Well, good luck, mate.”

"Thanks, Nev. I'll come round and see you again soon, alright? And, er, Georgina? Thank you for this, it means a lot."

Neville nodded. “Yeah. Try to visit more often, alright? The papers don’t add up to the real thing.” Harry laughed and give his friend a little salute as he headed towards the door.

"You'll be seeing quite a bit of me in the future, Longbottom, you can count on it!"

* * *

 

"Harry dear. You mentioned you'd seen the shift before." Harry had just put the Mandrake leaf under a stasis charm and was thinking about what to make for dinner when Narcissa interrupted his chain of thought.

"Hm? Oh- yeah I have." He paused. "Did you still want to see it?"

"I did, if you'd be willing. I found a pensieve, as well." Well, that was convenient. He supposed that would be best, though, he didn’t know any other ways.

“I’m willing, I just… don’t want you to think badly of Remus, or of Draco, because of it. Draco will never forget his wolfsbane, so his shifts would never be like this…” He spoke as she led him into the room that had the Pensieve in it.

"I understand, Harry, but I'd still like to see it all the same."

“Right. Okay, you set up the pensieve, and I’ll take care of the memory.” He focused hard, bringing the memory to the forefront of his mind, and touched the tip of his wand to his temple, gently extracting the silvery strands of the memory.

Narcissa smiled as she held out a vial. “It’s already set, dear. Let’s go, then.” They watched as the silver strands pooled and curled around each other in the vial, and they went upstairs to where Narcissa's pensieve was set up. She poured it into the shallow bowl and took Harry's hand in her own, giving it a comforting squeeze. They both bent down and were submerged in the memory.

Harry watched the dark forest form around them and had the briefest thought that this was a bad idea. He had been a scared thirteen-year-old and now he was going to show Narcissa that his favorite professor/pseudo-uncle had nearly killed him? Sure, her cousin/his godfather had saved them, and Snape had also sort of been required to save them…

They were a few feet away from the scene and Harry saw himself-- his young, overly-thin, scared 13-year-old self-- near Hermione, tiny in comparison to her cloud of hair, and Ron, twiggy and towering over them both. All of them stared at Lupin, and at Sirius, who was trying to keep the man under control. Lupin was changing before their eyes, and… When he was young, it had seemed so slow, and torturous, but now, looking back on it, it was much quicker than he’d first thought.

He turned, and tried to get a good luck at Narcissa to see how she was reacting, but he couldn’t get a good read on her. It was like she’d turned into a wall. Harry kept glancing back and forth, at Narcissa, and at the memory.

" _ Remus, my old friend, have you taken your potion tonight?"  _ Harry knew that Remus hadn't, too busy running after the three of them, Sirius, and Pettigrew to think of himself. " _ You know the man you truly are, Remus! This heart is where you truly live, this heart!"  _ Sirius held Remus close, even as he changed, expression pained and body twisting. " _ This flesh is only flesh!"  _ And all at once, a huge wolf stood where Remus had, and easily tossed Sirius off of him.

“He’d forgotten to take his potion, I can assume.”

"Yes," Harry murmured, eyes fixed on his other self, watching how terrified he'd been in that moment. "He was trying to stop Sirius from hurting me. Everyone thought that's why he'd broken out of Azkaban, but it was to keep Pettigrew away from me."

“Sirius always cared more about those close to him, rather than himself,” she said quietly.

_ Well there's another way we're alike.  _ Harry just nodded, and the memory started to fade, swirling into greys and blacks, and the two of them found themselves back in Narcissa's rooms, the pensieve floating between them.

Narcissa seemed to take a moment to gather herself before nodding. “Thank you, Harry.” He swallowed thickly and nodded. They stood in silence for a moment or two.

"...he'd never be like that, you know. And he's got us to support him, remind him… we'll never let it go that far."

“I know. Come on, now, I believe that it’s time for lunch.”


	12. Chapter 12

> _ Draco, _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ _ I almost began this letter with ‘darling’. Now I'm wondering how you'd feel about that… and a bit of where that ‘darling’ came from in the first place. I most certainly will not ignore your last letter. I thought it was honest and heartfelt, really quite sweet in a way that made my heart hurt. (Also I'm definitely not forgetting what you said about my smell, sorry.) When you said you were surprised your mother put you in a separate room, did you mean separate from her? Or separate from me? Because room arrangements can be easily changed.  _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ _ Completely changing the subject, I actually have seen a werewolf transformation before… in 3rd year, when Sirius came to Hogwarts looking for me. So much had gone on, and Remus was under so much stress (teaching, me, Sirius being at large and back in his life, Snape trying to expose him and get him sacked, etc) that he'd forgotten his Wolfsbane and transformed in front of me, Ron, and Hermione. Though it's been years, I've still not forgotten it. I viewed it again through my Pensieve recently and realized how painful it must've been for him, and how it must be for you. Now, I only want to help. I guess this is what my dad and Sirius felt when they caught him transforming in their 2nd year.  _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ _ Your mother expressed interest in viewing this memory with me… and I couldn't turn her down. I explained that your shift would be different -- you'd be on your potion, and you'd be in a safe space, not out on the Hogwarts grounds. So we watched Remus transform, in the memory, together. Please don't be angry with me or her about this. She only wants to know how to better support you. She's made of strong stuff, your mum, and loves you with everything she has. We both know what we're getting into with you. _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ _ On a much lighter note, though probably embarrassing for you, your mother showed me something very interesting today. I got to see your baby pictures, Draco, and they were wonderful. You were such a cute little thing, so tiny and-- dare I say-- soft. My heart skipped a beat every time your mum showed me a new picture, started a new story about you. There was one in particular where you must've only been about 4 or 5 weeks old, You fussed in your blanket for a few moments before looking right into the camera and smiling your sweet baby smile and I choked on a sob. Your mother just put her hand on my shoulder and said ‘I know’.  _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ __ Christ, Draco, what I wouldn't give to have you smile at me. I know we bicker and fight sometimes, but I miss having you by my side. And not just in the field either, though I'll quit the Aurors before they try to give me another partner. I know it isn't about the money… it's about keeping yourself busy and doing good and trying to make up for what you did back then. I'm right, aren't I? 
> 
> _ I couldn't do it with anyone other than you. You keep me safe and sane, honestly, and I feel as if I'm going mental without you. If I sit and think about you all on your own and so far away, I feel physically ill with worry and missing you. I'll beg, on my knees and in tears, if that's what will make you come back home to me. _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ _ Yours always, _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ _ Harry _ _   
>  _ _   
>  _ __ P.S. I'm glad you're keeping the shirt… It makes me feel warm and pleased, thinking of you curled up with it or wearing it to bed yourself. 

Draco couldn't help a smile at the letter, already beginning to reread it before he was shaken from his thoughts.

"What've you got, then? Something from home?" Valerie's voice cut through Draco's daydream of Harry's voice, and the fantasy came to an abrupt end as she stole the letter right from his hands.

“Wha-  _ Valerie, _ that is extremely personal-!” He tried to reach for it, but she pushed against his chest with her foot to keep him out of reach. She scanned the first few lines quickly and gasped in delight.

"Gran! Draco's got himself a sweetheart back home!" As she reached the second paragraph, her brow furrowed.  _ Werewolf transformation?  _ But that definitely paled in comparison to how sweet and charming the rest of the letter, and indeed the man who  _ wrote  _ the letter, was.

“I don’t!” He and Harry didn’t  _ really _ mean all that much to each other-! But Gwen was already running down the stairs like she was 20 and not nearly 80.

"You've got a beau? Oh why didn't you say something, my darling? Valerie, let me see that!"

Draco quickly shook his head as Valerie handed the letter off. “I haven’t got anything of the sort.”

Gwendolyn summoned a pair of reading glasses and scanned the paper. "Oh- he wants to call you darling- oh, my love-" And then she read over the bit about  _ transformations  _ and  _ potions,  _ and she briefly made eye contact with Draco.  _ So this man already knew? _ The rest of the letter brough the smile back to her face. "Oh he misses you so! 'In tears and on his knees', begging you to come home-!"

“He’s an  _ idiot. _ He doesn’t know what he wants,” he told them, holding his hand out to get his letter back. Gwen gave it another quick read-through before sighing and giving the letter back.

" _ So romantic,  _ Draco," Valerie sing-songed, grinning. "Wonder what you could have him do, on his knees and all."

“Wha-  _ Valerie! _ ” Draco flushed at the thought, turning his head away.  _ Harry Potter… on his knees… begging… for me.  _

Valerie tipped her head back and cackled in delight, sliding down on the sofa as she grinned and kicked her feet. "He's got an admirer! We'll need to keep an eye out for  _ intentions to court  _ letters soon, eh Gran?"

“I’m certain he doesn’t even know what courting  _ is, _ ” he scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms.

"Perhaps you ought to inform him, then, my dear. If you want him to court you, that is." She sighed dreamily and sat down between the two of them. "My sweet Hudson, gods rest his soul, he courted me right without realizing it. Sure, he didn't know the specific words… but he did it all the same."

“It’s better for all involved if he doesn’t.”

"Why?" Valerie asked, applying a base coat of polish to her nails. "He seems like a great guy.  _ Lots  _ better than the guy I was dating. Never got a love letter like that- and it isn't even a real love letter."

“Because it’s none of your business, that’s why.”

"Huh-ho, damn, jump back, kitty's got claws," she joked, curling her fingers to make a little claw in his direction.

He frowned at her in confusion. “What does that  _ mean? _ ” She rolled her eyes and blew on her nails.

"It means you're feisty and probably ready for a fight, cousin."

“I was an Auror,” he said, trying to lay this conversation to rest.

"Big bad Auror Draco Malfoy, he strikes fear into the hearts of criminals, and has powerful gorgeous men swooning at his feet." Valerie winked at him. "I think I know exactly who ' _ yours always, Harry'  _ is, Draco."

“Valerie,” Gwen chided softly. “Draco is taking his time with his courtship, that’s nothing to look down upon-”

“There  _ is no _ courtship!”

"Hell, I'm not looking down on him! I'm  _ jealous _ , if anything! He's got this super hot magical guy pining after him, and I got knocked up and left by the only wizard who would look my way."

“He’s not  _ pining! _ ”

Gwen held up her hands. "Okay, you two, enough. Don't fight over this…" Valerie just huffed and turned away, applying a bright pink polish to her nails. It was obvious she was going to ignore Draco now. Well, that was completely fine by him. Gwen sighed and rubbed their shoulders. "Come now, don't pout… Draco, I'm glad you have friends that are writing to you. I won't tease you anymore about him. And Valerie… you know that the right people will love you for who you are, regardless of magical ability."

“He was my Auror partner. My leaving was… fairly sudden, for him,” he told them, unable to keep his fingers from drifting to his neck. Valerie caught the movement and bit her lip.

_ Sudden leaving, taking his potion, werewolf transformation…  _ Trying not to let the shock show on her face, she made the connection. Despite what many wizards and witches liked to believe, Valerie wasn’t stupid, not by a longshot. Not having magic meant that she was forced to sit back and observe everything. And right now, every clue, every hint, every  _ breadcrumb _ led her down the trail until she realized she was staring a werewolf in the face.

"Oh-" She paused, taking a moment or two to blow on her nails, pausing for time. "Right. He must be worried for you, if you left that quickly."

“Well, I needed time to myself. To get myself together.” She nodded slowly, focused on the next layer of pink polish. She couldn't just ask him if he was a werewolf, as that was just as rude as asking if she was a squib. “Excuse me, I’m going to go put this away.” Draco took the letter and ascended the stairs.

He took a deep breath and looked over the letter again. That had been too close. But it seemed like Valerie didn’t catch on to Harry mentioning his condition. He laid on his bed, on his back, the letter pressed to his chest.

Harry missed him. His mother had brought out the baby pictures. They had both viewed Harry's memory of Lupin's shift. He groaned and covered his face with his hands. They weren't making it easy to stay away, and that wasn't even taking into account the fact that his mother had made up a room at Grimmauld Place for him… which was right next to Harry's. That was absolutely a courting step, and his mother knew it.

What was he supposed to do? He was a werewolf! One wrong move and  **snap!** Harry would have the wolf blood in him, as well. All it took was one mis-timed bite. One accident, and they’d execute him. 

He would have to make sure his own wolfsbane was strong and perfect, which would take a few tests, and only once it had gone correctly a few times could he even consider going back home. Sure, he and Aunty Gwen had been fine this past moon, but it had been an off-the-shelf potion.

Above everything, Draco just wanted to go home.

* * *

 

Draco stood outside Sapphire and Remy's jewelry shop, admiring the gorgeous pieces in the front windows. The jewels sparkled in the sunlight, twinking as he moved slightly to inspect them. The bell on the shop's door rang as it opened and his aunt stepped out.

"Draco, lovely to see you." She gently held his shoulders and greeting him with cheek kisses. Draco begrudgingly smiled at the greeting that was starting to grow on him.

“Sapphire. I hope you’re not too busy, right now?”

"Not at all, Mondays are very slow. Did you see something you liked?" She gestured at the window. "Anything I can show you better inside?"

“Just window shopping today, I suppose. What have you got?” She raised a sculpted eyebrow at him and smirked.

"The real question is 'what haven't we got', darling. Let's go in, shall we?"

“Well, if you insist…” Draco let her lead him in, and immediately his eye caught on gorgeous emerald jewelry near the front. Sapphire hummed and led him over to the emerald display, opening the case with a flick of her wand.

"The emeralds are gorgeous. You have good taste, nephew. Not that I expected anything less." She winked at him.

“Yes, I’ve noticed…” He looked over all the different pieces with a smile. He did wonder what Harry would gift him, if they were to genuinely court. Or… or what he might pick for Draco's bonding piece. The thought made a touch of color appear on his face. 

The case held a multitude of gorgeous pieces, from dangling earrings and delicate rings to statement pendants and lux bangles and chains. More than a few sparkling gems were the same shade of Harry's eyes, and that made Draco bite his tongue. Sapphire picked up a lovely bracelet made of silver. “Now, darling, how about this one.”

“Oh, no, I’m… I’m allergic to silver, I’m so sorry.”

She immediately put it back down. "Right, right, good to know," she nodded and hummed a bit, eyes flitting over the rest of the display. "White gold then, perhaps?"

“Oh- Oh, no, I wasn’t planning on-” But she was already waving her hand and shaking her head, tutting at him and cutting him off.

"To  _ try on _ , silly boy. You already said you weren't buying. This is just for  _ fun. _ "

He sighed. “Oh… Alright, just one.” She hummed and tapped her cheek a few times.

"Wait right here, and don't touch anything," she said, and the display case quickly shut on its own. She breezed behind the counter and went down to the far end, unlocking the case and lifting a necklace from it. Draco leaned over to try to get a good look at it, but she was quickly turning around and striding back towards him. “This should do.”

His eyes widened at seeing the pendant. “Oh, no, I couldn’t-” A pear-shape emerald sat comfortably beside yellow and rose gold leaves, with delicate white gold vines connecting them to each other and the chain. At first glance, there was a serpent-like dragon hidden in the pattern.

"No silver, my love," she said as she stepped behind him and fastened the chain around his neck. Draco glanced into the nearby mirror and smiled. He did adore it… It would be a shame to have to leave the shop without it. "Do you like it?" Sapphire asked, smile on her face. He hadn't even realized he'd reached up to gingerly touch the pendant. 

“I do,” he told her gently.

"Then it's yours," she told him, before walking back to lock the case she'd gotten it from.

Draco turned to look back at her. “What? Sapphire, no-” Ugh, as he’d turned his hair had seemed to float into his eyes. He blinked rapidly to try to resolve the situation. She just chuckled and shook her head.

"You'll need some clips for your hair. I believe My great niece Morrigan has plenty butterfly ones you can borrow."

“No, I don’t- And I can’t possibly take this!”

"Both of my children got their coming of age tokens from me, as did all my other nieces and nephews. And when their children grow to be seventeen, I will give each of them a pocket watch, a pair of earrings, or a pendant and chain. I apologize for being a few years late with yours, Draco."

“But…” Draco looked back in the mirror again. “But I’m not…”

She approached him and wrapped her arm around his waist, resting her other hand on his arm. She held him close and looked into the mirror with him. "Yes, you are. You are our boy, just like Gabriel, Sebastien, and Derrick. You're our family." He watched as his eyes glistened in the mirror, hand still resting on the pendant. If only Harry could see him now. Crying like a child at the slightest provocation. Git would probably be sniffling and dabbing at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. 

Harry's pendant would need a ruby, for sure. Looking around the shop, Draco found the jewelry of rubies. Perfect. Now… Gold would certainly fit him best. Gold for his golden boy. It would look so lovely against Harry's darker skin, and of course Draco would have to touch the metal, to be able to put it on Harry for the ceremony. Staring at the pendant that most caught his eye, he smiled. It wasn’t overly large, or adorned with much, simply a ruby pendant held in a gold setting, on a thin gold chain. It was perfectly tear-drop shaped and perfectly cut, for the maximum amount of sparkle. Draco could imagine kissing the jewel as it hung in the hollow of Harry's throat, or lower down, against his chest. He could imagine mornings in bed, playing with the chain around Harry's neck as he waited for him to wake up.

“Sapphire,” Draco called without turning his head, still envisioning so many different images in his head, all featuring Harry and the gorgeous necklace.

"Yes, Draco? Found something else you like?" She came closer and hummed when he pointed at the necklace. "Oh! I crafted that one. I envisioned it as a little drop of blood, or a pomegranate seed. Do you like it?"

“Yes… Is there any chance I could get you to put it on hold? Just in case.” She raised an eyebrow at him, but opened the case anyway. Without a word, she carefully scooped up the pendant and its chain, carrying it to the counter.

"I'll put it in a box for you, in the vault."

“Thank you, Sapphire. You’re a gem.”

"Quite literally, dear, but thank you for noticing," she replied, tucking the necklace-- Harry's necklace-- into a little black box for safekeeping. She attached a note reading 'For Draco's Bonding' to the box and vanished it to their vault.

Rather than correcting her, he only smiled. “Thank you.”

"My pleasure. Now!" She clapped her hands once. "If we can pry my husband away from his watch repair, maybe we can go get some lunch."

“Well, actually, I’m not all that hungry-”

"Oh just come with us, sit and watch the people go by, have some wine. Humor me, Draco." Remy came out at that moment, removing his protective glasses. He beamed, seeing the younger man in his show room.

"Bonjour! Did you find something?" He pecked his wife on the lips, a quick and casual kiss, and approached Draco. He hadn't spoken much to Remy at Sunday dinner, feeling overwhelmed as he was. 

Draco nodded. “I did, yes, thank you.” Glancing to Sapphire, he smiled. “Sapphire mentioned lunch?”

"Oui, perfect, I am starved. I've been repairing an antique since five this morning. Only two cups of coffee, can you believe it? It's a very bad habit, I know, but this watch is amazing. 1847, Draco! 1847 this watch was made."

“That does sound amazing,” he told him, and before he knew it, he was being dragged along to lunch with the two of them. The three of them sat outside a little café, facing out towards the street. Remy ordered them each a sandwich and wine, though Draco protested slightly. He wasn't very hungry… until the gorgeous ham and butter baguette was set in front of him with a crisp white wine. Sniffing the wine, he smiled at realizing that it wasn’t nearly so overpowering as it had been a couple weeks ago. “Pinot gris?”

"Hoho! The boy knows his wine!" Remy was obviously very pleased. "Yes, Pinot gris. French this time, too."

“Of course,” Draco said with a smile. “I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur.”

"Marvelous! Perhaps we take a little trip to the Loire Valley? Tour the wine caves, get you to try their sparkling wine. A wonderful day trip, I must say." Remy sipped from his glass and Sapphire cleared her throat.

"What is your preferred wine, Draco?" She asked.

“Actually, I love chocolate wine the most. Though I do love a nice sparkling wine.”

"He has a sweet tooth, this one," Remy laughed, patting Draco on the back. "But good taste. I will find you some Loire Valley sparkling wine soon, you will appreciate it better than my brother-in-law," he joked.

Draco found himself laughing with him. “I think that sounds lovely.” They continued their meal in silence for a bit, enjoying the early spring sunlight and watching the people go by. Draco was on his second glass of chilled Pinot gris when Sapphire cleared her throat and caught his attention. 

"So, my dear, we know you are an auror, with all your exciting adventures and tricky cases… but what do you do outside of work? What are your hobbies, who are your friends?"

"Oh. I like to experiment with potions in my free time, or read up on magical theory. My friends since childhood are Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. You've heard of Starling Zabini? Her son."

“She is a touch infamous, yes. Exceedingly beautiful, astonishingly wealthy—“

“And trés tragic, with all those husbands, hm?” Remy sipped his wine and arched an eyebrow at Draco. “So, her son… you and him, maybe are..?”

"Oh, no no. Not Blaise. We're much better off friends. He's got his eye on a pair anyway, though he won't admit. He claims he enjoys the life of a bachelor."

“It does get old, I would tell him that,” Remy said, leaning over to kiss Sapphire’s cheek. ”But a pair! Very ambitious, that Zabini. I can’t even handle one wife,” He stage-whispered, grinning when Sapphire smacked his shoulder. 

Draco grinned at their playful teasing. "And Pansy, she's between husbands. It's truly devastating."

“Perhaps she ought to sample other bottles, if you get my meaning. Plenty of lovely men and women in Paris, you know.”

"She only looks for those with… power and influence in high places." Remy and Sapphire both hummed and shared a Look. 

“I assume she will be as beautiful, wealthy, and tragic as your friend’s lovely mother in a few years, then, non?”

"That is her goal, yes," he told them with a sly smirk. "It's been her dreams since she was a young girl."

"It's important to have role models," Sapphire remarked, mirroring Draco's expression. "And I take it you are definitely not in her line of fire, in the way of possible future husbands?"

“Certainly not. We were actually arranged, when we were very young, but… My interests don’t lie in that direction.” Neither of them seemed surprised, but then again, their own son had married a man.

"Looking for a husband of your own, then? Is that another reason why you've come to Paris?"

“Oh, no no no, I just… I needed time away from it all, yes? I can’t see myself at all in the near future finding someone.” Someone  _ besides _ Harry, at least. Harry was… Draco was pretty sure Harry was  _ it  _ for him.

"You sound like our daughter," Sapphire said, eyes twinkling. "Though I believe you'll be married long before she is."

He rolled his eyes at her. “Well, we’ll see about  _ that. _ ” Remy covered his mouth with his hand and tried to hold back a laugh.

"No no, don't take offense, it's only a joke. Gisele has told us multiple times that it will never, ever happen. The going joke is even Sebastien will marry before she does."

“Why is that a joke?”

"Because he seems to be as reluctant as she is. That, or my poor nephew has terrible luck in finding good men. Or good men without commitment issues."

“Ah. I’m afraid I can’t help him there. I have the same luck.”

"It must run in the family, darling." And she gently patted his shoulder. "It's alright, you know. The best ones are  _ just  _ a bit dense." She pointed towards Remy, who made an affronted noise.

“How long did it take  _ him? _ I doubt it took ten years.”

"No, bless him," she said, leaning into her husband and sighing sweetly. "Only three, but he got to everything else pretty quickly after that. That's how it usually goes… very slowly, and then all at once." She looked over at Draco. "Ten years? You poor dear."

Draco smiled at her. “I realized it when we were both still in school together.” She reached over and gently held his hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"What made you realize, darling?"

“There was a Yule Ball, in our fourth year, and… He’s always the type to never put much thought into his hair, or his clothes, but… Watching him dance in his dress robes with that smile… It made me see him differently.” Draco had been struck speechless at the sight of Harry in his emerald dress robes, standing on the dance floor, surrounded by the wintry paradise that the Great Hall had become, faux snowflakes finding a place of rest in his dark curls. Even now, the memory made him blush and smile. “Of course, I’m fairly certain he hardly even noticed me. He was far too focused on some floozie a year above us.”

"He might not have… and that's okay." Remy gave him a smile. "Would you have been ready for him to return your attentions then?"

“No… I don’t know if I even am, yet. We had an… incident, a little over a year ago.” They both zeroed in on his face, attention solely on Draco and his story.

"Not a…  _ bad _ incident, I hope."

He sighed, looking down at his plate. “It was. We had dinner and dessert at his, and… He kissed me. I had the thought, and it  _ felt like _ things were going to go farther."

"And did he… pull away, or..?"

“I  _ froze. _ I froze, and I panicked when his hands were on me, and then I ran. I turned up at work the next day and pretended nothing happened. Neither of us said anything about it, either, so… So I don’t know.”

Both Remy and Sapphire were silent, processing everything. "...well, my love… It doesn't seem like you were ready. And that's alright, just-"

"Talk to him, hm? He probably felt like he pushed you too far, or that he read your signals wrong." Remy offered him a kind smile.

“Oh, no. He’s the type that would have confronted me about it, if it had mattered so much.” Harry rushed headfirst into everything, why hadn't he done that with him? Draco had fully expected a row that morning, and instead Harry had just followed his lead, stiffly saying nothing. “I don’t have much hope for the situation.”

"I'm sure the situation  _ and the man _ are less hopeless than you believe, Draco. After all, that necklace you had me put aside means you haven't given up fully." She winked at him and called for their waiter, to pay for their lunch.

“Well… He makes impossible things seem less unattainable.”

Remy grinned at him while Sapphire took care of paying the waiter. "That's a good sign, Draco. Can you imagine your life with him? The day to day, the big events?"

“I can,” he said softly. “Yes.”

"Well! There is your answer!" He squeezed Draco's shoulder before patting him on the back. "You say the word, we will get you the champagne to celebrate."

“Oh, no, no, I don’t think that’ll be for a  _ long _ while, yet.”

"So you've said, nephew of mine. And as I told  _ you,  _ with men like ours, it happens all at once. Keep your chin up." Sapphire kissed his cheek and they stood up.

Draco smiled. “This… This was nice. I’d like to do this again.”

"Of course, I quite enjoyed it, too. And you'll have to come see the watch before I've finished and returned it, it's simply beautiful. Original crystal facing, you know," he added, nudging Draco just a bit.

“You’ll have to let me know when a good time is.”


	13. Chapter 13

Harry woke to an unfamiliar owl tapping at his window. He scanned the letter for charms and hexes and, finding none, untied the letter and allowed the owl to rest. The post mark indicated the letter was from France… but this was not Draco’s handwriting.

 

 

Mr. Harry Potter,

May I say it’s a pleasure? Before you discard this letter, it’s about Draco.

Allow me to introduce myself, first. My name is Gwendolyn Roots, though I was originally Gwendolyn Malfoy. Please, feel free to call me Gwen. I’m Draco’s great aunt, from his father’s side. I believe that this picture may prove the family resemblance.

I’m mailing you to tell you that Draco has been residing with me since just before the full moon. Yes, I know of his condition, and I am doing what I can to help him through it. I’ve already sworn myself to secrecy for him, no worries. I already adore him as if he were my own, of course. And that brings me to asking.

What on Earth and between these worlds has been going on? Draco speaks of you so fondly, and looks so absolutely stricken whenever he reads a letter from you, and yet he seems to believe the situation hopeless, and that there’s no chance of the two of you becoming an item together.

I understand he may have new doubts of himself due to his afflicted Lycanthropy, but I highly doubt that these are brand new. He loves you so, so why does he seem to believe you two must keep each other at arms’ distance? Please, darling. Help an old woman understand the heartache her little nephew is going through.

Yours with love,

Aunt Gwen Roots 

Harry was shocked. In fact, shocked didn’t even begin to adequately describe what he was thinking or feeling. A long-lost great aunt not only knew that Draco was a werewolf, but was saying Draco loved him. And Harry would be damned if she thought this was at all his fault that they weren’t together. Fuck, he had to write back to her. He had to make sure that Draco’s family knew that it wasn’t _his fault_ and that it was _all on Draco_ that nothing had happened since The Incident. He sat down at his desk and began to craft his response.

 

 

Mrs. Gwen Roots,

Your letter surprised me in a number of ways, though I was glad to get it.

I had no idea there were other Malfoys, as Draco told me a number of times that he was one of the last. I’m glad to know that this is not the case. How did he find you? How was his transformation? Was he in a lot of pain? His mother and I worry for him every day, so news that he’s being cared for by family is the best news I could get. Thank you for keeping his, ah, condition a secret.

All that being said, it isn’t my fault that we aren’t together… 

About a year and a half ago, Draco and I finally finished a long and very high profile case. We’d worked dozens of hard hours to put it to bed, and were exhausted when we solved it. So I invited him to mine, to celebrate with dinner.

We had dinner with wine, and dessert with whiskey, and I was feeling that tension between us more than usual. I was riding a high from the case, and the alcohol, and I thought I was reading the mood right…

I kissed him. I kissed him, and I put my hands at his waist and shoulder, and I wanted to do more. But he didn’t respond. He kissed me back for all of two seconds before he went stiff as a board against me. We pulled away, and he ran out the door and Disapparated before I could ask what was wrong.

The next day at work, he acted like nothing happened. I was a bit hungover, and didn’t want to cause a fight that would cost what relationship I already had with him. So I didn’t bring it up.

I flirt with him all the time, Gwen, you have to believe me. I bring him lunch most days, and bring him tea and coffee every day we have work. I call him pet names, like dear and honey and sweetheart, and he threatens to report me to our boss. Honestly I’m surprised he talks of me fondly, all he does is complain when he’s here… so pardon me if I don’t necessarily believe you.

The lycanthropy is not a deal-breaker at all. My own godfather had a close friendship with a werewolf, and they were fine. My godson’s father was that werewolf, too. I am in the process of finding my Animagus form to be with Draco on the full moons. If he ever comes home, that is. It wouldn’t surprise me that he’s doubting himself because of this, as we’ve been sending letters that pretty much confirm it.

Thank you for writing me. I hope this clears a few things up.

Yours sincerely,

Harry

When he was finished, he allowed the ink to dry and fed the French owl some nice little meat trimmings he’d summoned from the kitchen. Ink dry and the letter sufficiently sealed, he tied the letter to the owl’s leg, also putting the customary few Sickles into the pouch at its other leg. “When you’re rested, take that back to Mrs. Roots, okay?” The owl cooed and rubbed against Harry’s cheek. Glad he liked him. Owls were incredibly good judges of characters, so it felt pretty good. Still, that Draco had talked about him to his new-found great aunt. And ‘fondly.’ Harry shook his head. Draco was a mysterious and puzzling man, and this just added to that persona.

If Harry didn’t love him so fucking much, this would be a lot harder to bear.

Heading down the stairs, Harry looked at Narcissa. “Do you know a Gwendolyn Malfoy?” She put down her book and looked at him.

"No, I don't believe I do. Abraxas' wife was named Marianne, not Gwendolyn, and Septimus' wife was Cressida, if I remember correctly… why do you ask, dear?"

That had Harry frowning. "I got a letter from someone claiming to be Draco's great aunt from his dad's side." Narcissa’s features sharpened and she held out her hand, silently demanding to see the letter, which Harry immediately gave her.

“...well she certainly _looks_ like a Malfoy. She and Lucius have nearly the same eyes… and the cheekbones, that’s all Draco…”

“Great aunt, that’d be…” Harry thought it over, trying to put the pieces together in his head. “His grand-dad’s sister?”

“She would be, yes.” She sounded a bit lost in thought. “Very good, Harry, dear.” She read the letter and sniffed once or twice. If this letter, and this woman, were to be believed, then her son was in safe and loving hands. 

Harry rose an eyebrow. “Uh, thanks? Have you already had breakfast? I was thinking about maybe making some pancakes…”

“You don’t have to trouble yourself, Harry, you know Mimsy would be happy to do it for you. But… if you’re going to be stubborn like you always are, pancakes would be lovely.” She needed to write to this woman, the sooner the better. Malfoys didn’t just go missing, not on her watch anyway.

“No, no, it’s okay. I _like_ cooking. I like it a lot more than I did when I was little.” She looked up from the letter and made eye contact with him.

“You cooked when you were little, love?”

He nodded as he started to wash out the pan he needed. “I did, yeah. Mostly when I was in primary.”

“Before Hogwarts, then. I imagine the castle elves would have protested if you’d tried to make a fry up in the school kitchens.”

That had him laughing and shaking his head. “I didn’t even know how to get to the kitchens until I was in fourth year, and by then… I liked other people cooking for me.”

“Easy to understand, darling. My mother could probably count on two hands the number of times she’d stepped foot in a kitchen in her entire life. Andromeda and I liked to sneak down and watch the house elves work, so I know quite a bit in theory, but Andy is the one that put the knowledge to good use.”

“Heh, yeah. Most of the time, my aunt just didn’t want to cook, so she taught me to cook when I was little, except if something big was happening. Then she would just make sure I stayed out of the way.”

“Mmm, yes, Draco mentioned you lived with your aunt and uncle.” Her tone had changed, back to the hard and cold way he’d heard her talk when they’d first met several years ago. “What was Dumbledore's excuse for putting you with them, again?”

“A, uh… Blood ward. Protection. Thing- What exactly did Draco tell you?”

“He does not know much of your pre-Hogwarts years, but I’ve been able to guess a few things from his letters over the years.” She cleared her throat and suddenly a box appeared on her lap. Opening it, she pulled out a few letters.

“First year. _Mother, he eats like he has never seen a meal in his life. Worse than the Weasel._

 _“_ First year again. _And his clothes—! Mother, they make me want to cry, they’re so poorly made and terribly Muggle. They do not fit him at all!_

 _“_ Third year. _His awful Muggle shoes have holes in them, mother. He can barely see in those spectacles. I fear they’re making his already poor eyesight even worse!_

 _“_ Fourth year. _There is no way Potter signed up for this damn tournament. He may be reckless and have no regard for himself, but this is a death sentence, he’s not even of age! Can father get him disqualified? Have him look into it, will you please?”_ She looked at him, eyes bright with righteous fury. “If your schoolboy nemesis noticed all these things, why didn’t Dumbledore?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably because Dumbledore was too busy worrying about horcruxes and an impending war to focus on my clothes or my shoes.”

“I won’t argue that he played the long game, because that is precisely what he did. However, the _long game_ consisted of creating child soldiers and allowing practically four graduating years of students to be killed.”

Setting down his cooking supplies Harry turned round properly towards her, frowning. “All due respect, Mrs. Malfoy, you allowed your own son to be branded by a murderer and a tyrant. I really don’t know if you have any room to talk.”

“I was not in the room when my son was branded, Mr. Potter. I was held in another room, where my sister _kept an eye on me_ until it was done.” She placed the box on the table. “My own sister tortured me while my son took the Mark, and he was told Lucius and I would be killed if he did not take it. This was also when my son was ordered to kill Dumbledore.” She smoothed her skirt over her lap. “I suspect ee knew my son would not succeed… likely, he wanted us out of the way at that point.”

“...Well, I’m sorry, but that was the side you and your family chose.”

“Well, how fortunate for you and your friends to be born into the winning side of the war.”

He nodded, arms crossed. “Yeah. I know.” 

She folded her hands in her lap and was silent for a minute. “...blood wards, of the kind Dumbledore described to you, do not work. Your mother’s sister would have needed to agree to them, as well as offer her own blood and magic, neither of which she did, I assume.” She looked up at Harry, calm as anything. “Do you know how magical godparents are officially chosen?”

“Well, I already know that Sirius was my goddad, but seeing as he was in Azkaban-”

“For a crime he did not commit, and you know this. Becoming a child’s godparent is a huge honor, and a big responsibility. It requires a ritual similar to a bonding ceremony, and there is blood magic involved. You would’ve been safe in Sirius’ care, because he was your father, for all intents and purposes, after your own parents were killed. In the eyes of your magic, anyways.”

“Well, they put me with the Dursleys because there was some kind of protection in her blood because she gave herself up for me.” But… How could there be any kind of blood magic protection if the Dursleys weren’t magic?

“My love, there was no protection in her blood, because she had no magic. Your parents’ sacrifice protected you from being killed that night, because their love and magic protected you in that specific moment. There was so much untethered, powerful magic in the air, with the intent of protecting you, that you survived.”

Leaning against the counter, he finally turned around and got back to it. “Dumbledore didn’t care about the individual people. He cared about winning a war.”

“He did, yes. When do you think he found out about His plans to become a Dark Lord? He got information from the Hogwarts library and was recruiting while he was still in school.”

“I never said that Dumbledore was good, or perfect.”

“I am saying he molded you into the perfect soldier, who found solace and wonder in the magical world and would give up his life for it. You forget that I saw you that night… no seventeen year old looked like you did. You walked to your own death and by the magic of luck alone were able to come back.”

Pouring the batter into the pan, Harry stared down at it. “There were lots of days I wished I didn’t come back.”

“...I did wonder about that,” she admitted, finally getting up and leaning against the counter a few feet behind Harry. “Do you… have many of those days now?”

“Sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. Not even when I’m having a bad day, just…” He didn’t know how to explain it.

“You lost more than most, it is easy to understand, when put in perspective.” She came a little closer, gingerly resting her hand on his shoulder. “In another life, I believe you would’ve been the happiest, most cared for boy in the world, and I do mean it literally. Your parents loved each other, and you, much more than a number of other people love their families. Not to mention the adoration of my cousin and Remus.” Harry’s shoulders shook and he sniffed, immediately trying to wipe at his face with his sleeve.

“I can’t let the pancakes burn.”

“Let them, my love, it’s alright. We can make more.”

Harry sighed, turning the burner off. Gods, if only Draco could see him now. He’d give him some shit about how he was a baby, crying over breakfast, _literally_ crying over breakfast. Narcissa rubbed his back while moving the pancake batter off to the side. 

“I’m sorry, Harry. You’re right, about most things, and my goal was not to start a fight with you. Though, I must commend you for not backing down.” She turned him so that he’d face her. “You are so very _good,_ Harry Potter. And you deserve _everything.”_

“I think you would be the only one to say that.”

“Untrue. I can name at least two dozen people that would very much agree with me.” She cupped his face with one hand. “You are a good man, and you prioritize nearly everyone’s happiness and safety above your own. You need to learn that you are worthy of love, and your needs are just as important as mine, Draco’s, Teddy’s, or anyone else’s.”

“Does it count if I say I’ve been trying?” She smiled at him.

“Of course it counts. You can’t learn it overnight, and I believe you had to unlearn a few things from the war, as well. Progress is progress, darling, and should be celebrated.”

“I didn't mean what I said, either. About you letting him get branded. I know you didn’t want that for him, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“I believe we are on a first name basis, now, Harry. Unless you’d like me to call you ‘Mr. Potter’ like you’re still in school.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. “This is a good thing we have, you and I.”

“Yeah? You think so?” His expression was open, vulnerable. He might cry. Narcissa pulled him into a hug and ran her fingers through his curls. 

“Yes, I quite think so. You make excellent company, you know."

Harry hugged her back, and now he was definitely crying. Again. Why did she keep doing this to him? “Thanks.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and he had to close his eyes for a minute. He’d been emotional Ike this since she’d arrived in his Floo that morning a few weeks ago. He definitely knew why Draco was such a mummy’s boy, first hand. It did make Harry wonder, if he and his parents had all lived in the regular Wizarding World, if he would have been the same.

In a world without Voldemort, a world with just a normal half blood Tom Riddle, what might his life been life? Naturally, his father would’ve gone to every Quidditch game, with Sirius right beside him. His mum… He had all these different accounts about his dad, and Sirius, and Remus, but there was still so little he knew about his mum, just the fucked-up visions he’d gotten from Snape. He knew that she was wicked smart, very loyal, and didn’t put up with nonsense, but that was about it.

After the two of them were sat down to breakfast, a familiar owl was flying in, with two letters attached. It seemed that Draco had decided to write Harry and Narcissa at the same time, to save everyone time.

 

Harry,

You’re such an utter sap.

You shouldn’t have to go through it, either. And I know my mother is firm, but I still want to protect her. She certainly doesn’t deserve any of this.

I am curious to say, how has your animagus training been coming along? Have you discovered what your form will be, yet? I’m ashamed to say I don’t know much of that branch of magic. You don’t get to choose what you become, do you? I have to say, I would be beside myself with laughter if you were to become a cat. Or, say — a peacock? They were just so awfully fond of you at the Manor, chasing you whenever you stepped foot in the yard.

And no, you dare not say. I’ll have you know I was never soft. ~~Father wouldn’t allow it~~ Softness is weakness, plain and simple. Though you should have her tell the story of my first bit of accidental magic. I feel as though you would find it incredibly humorous.

It’s not just to keep myself busy. It’s for the independence it gives. And, yes, making up for my past sins. What I did in the war is unforgivable, but doing the work we do can at least help me start to make up for it all. And also… I don’t want to just depend on house elves, and mother, and the family vault, all the time. I’ve got to learn to lean on myself.

I could be convinced —  Begging on your knees, you said?

Really, Harry, don’t worry so much. Yes, it is quiet, but… I think I needed time to myself. Time without you, or mother, or Blaise or Pansy, or anyone else. Time to reflect.

With the moon waning, I’m feeling more and more like myself. Those days of and around the full moon — it felt like someone else was trying to take control. Or maybe some small forgotten part of me that had been shoved away. I didn’t recognize it, if that’s so.

Yours,

Darling

Harry didn’t know what to focus on. But Draco— he called himself ‘darling’. That was the first time he’d reacted well to a pet name. ...maybe Gwen was right? That seemed like it was Draco’s subtle, backhanded roundabout way of saying that he wanted something with Harry. Wanted Harry to call him those sweet names. Harry grinned to himself. _Progress._

He felt a bit bad about the Animagus training, because he’d tried to get ahead and had accidentally swallowed the leaf Neville had given him. It was bitter and made him salivate a lot, and he’d nearly choked on the thing… he’d go ask Neville for another before his lesson with McGonagall. He’d make sure to be a lot more careful with this one, too. Neville probably wouldn’t be too happy to have to be giving him another one. Georgina definitely wouldn’t be pleased, giving up another leaf. He hoped it would only be the one more.

Oh, another letter. Today was a busy owl day, wasn't it- Oh! McGonagall!

 

Mr. Potter,

Have you given any thought to my request since our last meeting? If you decline, please owl me with a list of people you think can best fit the positions.

Charms

Potions

Defense Against the Dark Arts

Ancient Runes

I've not received a letter from Mr. Malfoy. Have you passed along my invitation?

Sincerely,

Headmistress McGonagall

Oh shit— he needed to let Draco know about her offer! He’d forgotten, with the drama of his first full moon, and Narcissa moving in. He’d mention it in his next one to Draco. He needed to be working on his Animagus transformation, actually… “Anything noteworthy, Harry?”

“Oh, um, it’s from Prof— Headmistress McGonagall. She’s asking if I know any candidates for assistant teaching positions, that would eventually become professors in a year or so.” He paused, watching for her reaction. “I’m thinking of Draco and I possibly putting up our names for it.”

“Oh. Is that so? You… You think _Draco_ would be a good candidate?”

“He’s brilliant at potions and charms, I don’t see why he wouldn’t be. And if he got me to do my paperwork every week, he can definitely handle the homework.”

“You think he would be a good… teacher? To children?” Harry paused and thought about it.

“...Well he can’t be worse than Snape. Or practically all our Defense professors.”

Narcissa leaned back in her chair. “But do you think he would want to teach?” She had him there. Draco never seemed to be overly fond, whenever they had to work with kids for any reason. Harry hesitated before sighing.

“Maybe not… but he might know more people to recommend to her. If we can’t teach, I’d like to help McGonagall how I can.”

“You only plan on accepting her offer so long as Draco accepts?”

“Well, yeah…” He cocked his head a little. “I couldn’t go back to the Auror corps without him, they’d partner me with someone else, and probably make me take him in and register him… And I won’t do that to him.”

“But if he chose a different career path?” Harry shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

“I suppose I’d have to think about it. When Draco makes a decision, we’ll have a more serious conversation about it. But I’d like to be around him quite often, and if I’m at Hogwarts and he isn’t… I probably wouldn’t see him as often as I’d like.”

Narcissa nodded. “Alright, then.” That was it? ‘Alright, then?’ He hummed a bit, thinking that she was definitely holding back her thoughts on the matter. The grandfather clock down the hall charmed 11:30, and Harry sat up.

He couldn’t be late for his first lesson with McGonagall, and he still needed another leaf from Neville. He’d have to hurry. “Um, sorry to run off, Narcissa, but I have an appointment with the Headmistress and I can’t be late.” He stood up and grabbed his leather jacket. “I’ll be home for dinner, though.”

“Make sure to pick up lunch while you’re out, Harry dear.”

“Anything you’d like in particular?” He shrugged on the jacket and ran a hand through his hair— he’d been using Sleekeazy's more often in the morning, so hair hair was more curls than just a mess. “Somewhere on Diagon?”

“I mean for _yourself._ You’re too thin by half.” He grinned at her sheepishly and adjusted his glasses. Everyone was always trying to feed him, jeez.

“I will, I promise.” He resisted the urge to call her ‘mum’ to tease her.

“You had better.”

* * *

He arrived at the entrance to the Hogwarts grounds and hummed to himself as he made his way towards the greenhouses. He hoped Neville wouldn’t be too cross with him about needing another leaf. “Harry, mate! Out here!” Hearing his name called, he looked over and saw where Neville was waving to him from a garden. Harry grinned and walked over to him.

“Hiya, Nev. What have you got growing here?” He stood next to his friend and put his hands on his hips, looking over the garden.

“Got some… strawberries. Why?”

“Oh! That’s what they look like when they’re-? Interesting. I’m allergic to strawberries, you know.”

“What? You are? Since when?”

“Since always, I think. But I found out in primary when this girl offered me one. Yeah, I get all… blotchy and red? And my mouth itches and my tongue swells. Spent the rest of the day in the nurse’s office, after she gave me a few epinephrine pills. Not had a strawberry since.”

"Weird," Neville commented as he stood. "Visiting, or do you need something?"

He shifted nervously from foot to foot, hands in his pockets. “...I choked on the Mandrake leaf and swallowed it… I might need another one.”

Neville sighed. “You’re lucky you’re a friend, Harry. Come on.” He followed Neville from the strawberry patch like a little puppy, thanking Neville for helping him, and subsequently inviting him to tea at Grimmauld sometime in thanks. (He was picking up pureblood customs faster than he’d realized.) 

“Hey, Alfred,” Neville said with a laugh. “How are we today, buddy?” The plant grumbled a bit, shifting in the pot a bit, absolutely responding to Neville, seemingly talking about his day. Harry wondered if Neville could _literally_ talk with plants. “Good, that’s good… Listen, Alfred. I need a very big favor, okay?” There was more grumbling and Harry swore the little plant-man glanced over in his direction. “Yeah, another one. I know, I told him so.”

“Can you, uh…” Harry cleared his throat. “Can you tell Alfred I’m sorry?” Neville looked up at him and grinned, shaking his head.

“You can tell him yourself, you know. But he figured you were anyways.” 

“Right. Sorry. I, uh… I’m not so good with plants.” Alfred let out a surprisingly Draco-like huff that had both Harry and Neville chuckling.

“You have plenty of other talents, Harry, don’t worry.”

It didn’t take much for Neville to get Harry a new leaf. He told him sternly not to lose it again, and Harry agreed, eager to head to his lessons with the Headmistress. He made it up to her office just before noon, as they’d agreed, a touch out of breath from the number of stairs. “Come in, Mr. Potter.” How did headpeople do that?! It was all part of the magic and mystery, he supposed, as he pushed the door open. He smiled as he saw her behind her desk, finishing up a letter to someone.

“Hullo, Prof— Headmistress. Sorry, force of habit.”

“Indeed. Have you considered my offer?”

“I’m sending Draco a letter about it this afternoon. If he agrees, you have us both. If he says no… We’ll need to talk about things a little more. I hope that’s alright for now.”

She nodded. "Very well. Have you already begun with the mandrake leaf?" He presented her with the leaf, a sheepish look on his face.

“That’s, ah, my second one. I swallowed the first one… accidentally.”

“I see. Hopefully we will be more careful, then.” She put her letter aside and folded her hands atop the desk. “Well, Potter, as I’m sure you’ve read, arguably the most important part of the Animagus process is finding the animal that resides inside you, that resonates with your soul and your magical core.”

“My… magical core?” Alright, Harry would be the first to admit he hardly knew what that was. He might have remembered it being mentioned at Hogwarts once or twice.

"Indeed, Potter. The center and source of all the magic you can call upon…" She paused, pinning him with a calculating gaze. "Despite the chaos of your time at this school, surely you learned about magical cores."

“I… Yeah. Yes. Absolutely. Magical cores. Love them.” The atmosphere was thick with tension as McGonagall realized he was bluffing.

"Mr. Potter, how you were allowed into the Auror ranks knowing nothing of magical cores… it's probably a blessing you were paired with Mr. Malfoy. Were you still a student here, I would dock points and be speaking with your other professors."

“Right. So… What’s a core got to do with it?” Jeez, still as harsh as ever, wasn’t she? She reached for her cup of tea and took a sip before looking at him again.

"You have to not only see the animal you will become, but manipulate your core to shift your very being _into_ that animal. The first few serious attempts will feel like learning to Apparate, from my experience."

He frowned, sitting back a bit in his chair. “Really? That’s… I guess that makes sense.” 

“Indeed. That’s probably why it worked.” She cracked half a smile at him before schooling her face back to her usual stern expression. “As usual, though, I believe you might be a special case. Filius and I have had multiple discussions about you and your magic since we found out _you_ were a horcrux. We have a theory… that Voldemort’s soul attached itself to your magical core, which is one of the reasons you were able to speak Parseltongue. When he carved the piece of his soul from you, we believe that it left a vacuum in your core, and your magic slowly began to fill it.” Harry looked like he was having trouble following, and McGonagall sighed. “Simply put, Potter, you might have a reservoir of magic in your core. A ‘core and a half’ worth of magic, if you will.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh. That’s… That’s a lot.” A core and a half. How much magic did normal cores normally have in them? Hm. That might be a Draco kind of question… He wondered how much magic Draco had. He was typically sensitive to magic, did he know about Harry’s core, too? This was… not really something to ask over pen and paper. That was a face to face conversation.

"It is. When you have intense focus on a spell or action, is it stronger? Does simple magic seem to come… easily to you, now?"

“Well, I mean… My magic seems like it’s stayed the same, really. If I’m emotional, yeah, it’s stronger, but I’m still pants at a few charms, and potions still isn’t my best. I didn’t think I had anymore powerful magic than the next guy.”

McGonagall seemed to think this over for a moment, nodding slightly. "Perhaps it is a reservoir of _untapped_ magic. I could be wrong." _But that was un-bloody-likely._

Thinking it over himself, he finally frowned. “So what are we supposed to do about it?”

"If my theory is correct, this just means you have more magical power to manipulate into your Animagus form. Assuming you learn how to reshape your core, the transformation should be incredibly easy for you. It might even take less time than the average witch or wizard."

“Okay. That’s… That’s fantastic then, right?” Why did it seem like it wouldn’t be that easy?

"Absolutely. I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to achieve your Animagus form. However, this process requires immense amounts of concentration, self-reflection, and meditation. And you and I both know, Potter, that you are not the most patient of men."

Jeez. McGonagall didn’t pull a single punch, did she? “Yes, ma’am.” If it was for Draco, though, Harry would do anything he had to. Even if McGonagall had him do nothing except sit still and quiet for the entire hour. He would do it for Draco. The key for him was motivation, as it had likely been for his dad and Sirius.

"The Mandrake leaf, generously supplied to you by Professor Longbottom, is the first step to seeing and therefore tapping into your magical core. Some say it causes hallucinations for Muggles or those with weak cores. You have nothing to worry about on that front." Harry gulped.

"Oh." Although, he was suddenly having doubts about this whole animagus thing. He wasn't much a fan of hallucinations, really. Not that he knew anyone that was.

"Only temporary hallucinations, Mr. Potter, and like I said, you have nothing to worry about. Now, like I said, the next step requires meditation. You need to keep the leaf in your mouth for 28 days, while spending at least an hour each day meditating and trying to visualize your magical core-- the glow, the color, the feel of it, sometimes even the scent or taste."

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said with a nod. “I’ve never been able to smell my own magic before though.” McGonagall waved her hand and shook her head a bit.

"It is not something that comes naturally to most. Someone who is particularly sensitive to magic might catch a whiff or two, if they have not honed in on the skill."

He thought about it, nodding along. “Yeah, I can smell most everyone else’s fine, but not mine. I don’t think Draco can really feel his own magic all that well, either.”

"We are surrounded by our own magic at all times, we become a bit blind to it. Nose-blind, if you will." She smiled at him, dark eyes sparkling. "Go ahead, Potter. Leaf in your mouth at your leisure."

“Right.” Bracing himself for the taste, Harry put the leaf in his mouth and had to immediately fight the urge to gag. The taste was terrible, bitter and bad. The texture made it worse-- fizzy and almost prickly. “Right. Okay. Leaf. Done.”

"Now keep it there for the next 28 days." That had Harry giving a laugh-

And feeling the leaf slip down his throat. "Uh… Prof- Headmistress… Would using a sticking charm work?" She looked at him for what seemed like a long time. She began to massage her temple and sighed.

"I believe it would, yes, though I did not use one. It seems like something your father would've thought to employ, though. Exactly how many Mandrake leaves have you accidentally swallowed, Potter?"

"That, ah… That'd be two now, ma'am." The sigh she let out was long and silently spoke of suffering from idiots like him for far too long. She summoned a freshly picked leaf from the potions stores and handed it over. 

"Perhaps give it a bit of time before you try again… you might he more comfortable trying this at home. And use the sticking charm." Harry nodded and pocketed the leaf. "Oh, and Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Perhaps you could pay Madam Pomfrey a visit on your way out… just to be safe about those leaves."

Oh boy… "Will do. So… what are you going to teach me?"

"A review course on core magic seems to be the best course of action for this hour. We can keep that third leaf out of the equation at least until you get home."

"Right, okay," he said, fingering the leaf gently. "What do I need to know?"

"As I said, your core is the source of your magic. Think of it as… as a second heart, it pulses and pumps your magic through your body, and into your surrounding aura. Following me so far, Potter?"

“Yeah. My core is a magic heart. Is it… Does that mean that something could hurt it? Can I get, like, a core attack, or something?” Minerva looked a bit surprised, like she hadn’t expected Harry to ask a medical question. 

“There have been a few cases over the centuries, as you can imagine. A core specialist healer at St. Mungo’s could better answer any practical core questions, if you become concerned with your own. There _is_ a term for a person’s magical core reacting violently to suppression of the person’s magic.” She paused, and Harry noted a look of sadness pass over her face. “When magical children were born into homes or cultures that persecuted magic, they often tried to push it down or bottle it up, and they developed what was called an _Obscurus.”_

Harry gave her a nod. “Yeah, I’ve heard of that once or twice. But we haven’t had one in years, right?”

“Not in yours or my lifetimes that we know of, no. I will admit… I had great fears that _you_ would develop one, before you even got to Hogwarts.”

“Me?” Harry’s eyes widened as he took a moment to process what she was saying. “But… Why me? How?” He knew that he didn’t have the best childhood, but he didn’t think that he’d ever have been an _Obscurial…_  

“It forms from fear and hatred… not necessarily hatred of the self or of magic individually, but a terrible concoction of fear of persecution, fear of the unknown, fear of the things you can do…” She sat back in her chair and took off her spectacles, taking the time to clean the lenses with the edge of her sleeve. “The house Albus placed you in was not a good one. But I believe the reason you did not develop an _Obscurus_ is because Vernon feared your magic, as did Petunia. They punished you for doing magic, but I believe they punished you for a number of other things, so you did not come to believe that your magic was bad or evil and should be suppressed.”

“Oh.” He said quietly. So… So it was possible. If they’d done anything a little different, he really could have been an Obscurial. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information, only looking to McGonagall. She was Headmistress, she _must_ have had all the answers.

“I try to regret as few things in my life as possible, Potter, but leaving you in that house with those people is one of my biggest regrets. The other is that I allowed Sirius Black to be put in Azkaban and did not look for the truth.” She replaced her spectacles and looked at him. “You are probably very tired of apologies by now, but humor me with this last one. I know Albus’ ultimate goal was to win the war… but I apologize for not trying harder to make sure you and your loved ones were protected.”

And she was right. Harry was tired of apologies, by now. He was tired of people he barely knew saying they were so sorry for everything he had to go through, right before they practically threw themselves at his feet. He was tired of the people who’d stayed so firmly in the middle give half-arsed apologies to try to win their way into his good graces. But most of all… He was tired. He said nothing in response, and after a while, McGonagall simply nodded once and changed the subject, saying he was welcome to stay for tea, if he desired, but their lesson was finished for the day. 

After a few moments, Harry smiled at her before rising. “Thank you, Headmistress. I… I think I have a few things to think about, right now.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter. I’ll see you next week for your lesson. And do mention my offer to Mr. Malfoy as soon as possible.”

"I'll make sure to."


End file.
